Heat of the Sun
by painted.inkblot
Summary: AU, no PoT. The bad news: Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw had one kit who disappeared just weeks after being born. Many moons later, she resurfaces as leader of BloodClan, triggering a whole different string of events. The good news: Not much. ABANDONED.
1. Prologue

A/N: This is my first fanfic, so I'd appreciate it if you weren't too hard on me, but contructive criticism is accepted, of co

**A/N: This is my first fanfic, so I'd appreciate it if you weren't too hard on me, but constructive criticism is accepted, of course.**

Disclaimer: Erin Hunter has taken to writing fanfiction under the name Flamespirit-eth, surprising as it may be.

**NOTE: Revised and edited 4/27/08**

* * *

**Prologue**

* * *

Squirrelflight and Brambleclaw, two of the most respected warriors of ThunderClan, looked down at their only kit in adoration. The medicine cat, Leafpool, stood by, studying the kit; she was, after all, Leafpool's sister's kit, and the tabby she-cat had a right to interested in her newborn relative.

"What should we name her?" asked Squirrelflight, licking the tiny kit's head weakly; she was still exhausted from giving birth, and her eyes drooped, barely able to keep from closing. A couple pants escaped from her mouth. Her eyes did close for a couple moments, but she forced them open again. After all, she had to name her kit, didn't she? She wouldn't let Brambleclaw get away with naming their precious kit something horrid. He had expressed a liking for Otterkit a few days ago, and Squirrelflight would have slapped him with her tail if she wasn't pregnant. Actually, she did try to, but Brambleclaw dodged.

"Russetkit," Brambleclaw said lovingly, fixing the tiny ginger kit with his amber gaze. He had the look of one who was going to pamper and protect their child, no matter what, since it was the only one. Squirrelflight gave a small half smile and a nod. His suggestion wasn't horrid – it wasn't Otterkit, at least –, so she might as well agree, before her head clunked on to the moss and she fell asleep. "Russetkit," Brambleclaw mewed again, "our one and only daughter."

--_A few weeks later--_

Her kit-blue eyes barely open, Russetkit crawled out of the nursery, inching her way through and scratching her tiny paws in the moss and dirt. She fell over and stumbled over small things like pebbles, several times, as she hadn't walked much, being a kit only a few weeks old. Soon her fur was not as clean and well-kept as Squirrelflight had made it when she licked her so many times. She ambled out of the ThunderClan nursery and camp and into the forest, unknown to her doting parents, both asleep. It was night after all, and not even close to the beginning of day. Stars still shone and twinkled, and the moon still hung in the sky, unwilling to give way to sun, light, and a blue sky just yet. The wind swept around her, making her squeak as she tumbled headfirst into the dirt, covering her bright ginger fur with dull brown mud and scuffing it up. Feebly shaking herself clean (though some dirt still stayed lodged in her pelt), she padded farther and farther away, blending into the shadows, not even knowing she was not in ThunderClan camp anymore.

* * *

Talon held up his head higher, cocking his ears as his icy blue eyes narrowed in concentration. What was that he had just heard? Was it a mew?

A shadowy brown tom sitting near him echoed his thoughts. "What was_ that_?" he asked. "Did someone just mewl?"

Ignoring the cat, Talon stayed silent, trying to listen. Suddenly he heard it.

"Crashing through the undergrowth," he hissed, craning his neck forward. "Stay still." He fixed the brown tom with a piercing stare for a second, and the cat bowed his head and did as Talon ordered.

For a few seconds, the two cats sat in silence, waiting.

Nothing happened. The brown cat privately thought this was rather foolish, and was about to venture a question as to _why_ they were doing this, when suddenly a ginger kit – rather dirty and unkempt, the brown tom thought – burst through the grass and right in front of them, as if pushed there by another cat hiding a few tail-lengths away.

The kit gazed at them with wide, still blue eyes, and then Talon cooed in a high voice, "Oh kit, little kit, come forward."

The kit stared at them for another second, then slowly stumbled over to them, perhaps thinking they were its parents.

"Talon, who is this?" the brown cat said, shivering from the wind that had just passed through.

Talon's icy blue eyes gleamed. "Swipe," he murmured, "I have a good feeling about this little kit. We shall make her strong and powerful. I know she will bring fortune to us again; she will once again make us great."

The brown tom, Swipe, gave Talon a look of slight disbelief. "Talon," he hissed. "She's just some ThunderClan kit. Nothing special. She'll probably just grow up to be another cat among us. Just another mediocre cat, probably – she looks like she's related to _him,_ Firestar, with that ginger fur."

Talon just looked at Swipe, a look full of knowledge and hope, of excitement abd plans

And also full of threat.

"Trust me, Swipe. Just trust me."

Swipe had trusted for moons and moons – he had trusted for Talon's father, too. He could afford to put just a little more trust in, enough to see if Talon would be right. And if Talon was right, he might even half to trust one day for this kit, too. Something he thought highly unlikely "Okay," he mewed, sighing a bit as he looked at the little ginger kit. He bent down to study the kit a bit more. Instead of being harmless, the kit batted a small paw that wavered in the air at Swipe, and hit his nose. Hard.

"Perhaps this will turn out well," Swipe muttered, rubbing his nose with a paw. He couldn't resist glowering at the helpless – or not so helpless – kit, despite the fact it was only a small hit and all kits did such things. But he wasn't very accustomed to kits, anyway.

Talon smirked. "It will. I know."

And unknowing of what was going on around her, Russetkit lay down in front of her new family, and slept.

* * *

**A/N: Yeah, I know, short, but it's only the prologue. I'll try to get the chapters longer than this. Anyways, R&R!**


	2. Allegiances

**Okay, I just want to clear this up, because I know I wasn't very clear in the prologue: Russetkit did not disappear the same day she was born. She was around three weeks old when she disappeared, so she could walk and her eyes were open.**

**ThunderClan**

**Leader**- _Firestar_- ginger tom with a flame colored pelt

**Deputy**-_ Brambleclaw_- dark brown tom with amber eyes

**Medicine Cat**- _Leafpool_- light brown tabby she-cat with amber eyes

**Warriors-**

_Dustpelt_- dark brown tabby tom

_Sandstorm_- pale ginger she-cat

_Graystripe_- long haired gray tom

_Millie_- small silver tabby

_Cloudtail_- long-haired white tom

_Brackenfur_- golden brown tabby tom

_Berrytail_- cream colored tom

_Sorreltail_- tortoiseshell and white she-cat with amber eyes

_Apprentice, Foxpaw_

_Brightheart_- white she-cat with ginger splotches

_Mousepatch_- gray and white tom

_Spiderleg_- long-limbed black tom with brown underbelly and amber eyes

_Ashfur_- pale gray (with darker flecks) tom, dark blue eyes

_Hazelheart_- small gray and white she-cat

_Cinderheart_- gray tabby she-cat

_Apprentice, Specklepaw_

_Birchfall_- light brown tabby tom

_Stormfur_- dark gray tom with amber eyes, formerly of RiverClan

_Apprentice, Icepaw_

_Squirrelflight_- dark ginger she-cat with green eyes

_Ferncloud-_ pale gray (with darker flecks) she-cat, green eyes

**Apprentices-**

_Icepaw_- white she-cat with blue eyes

_Foxpaw-_ ginger tom

_Specklepaw_- white she-cat with ginger foot, muzzle, and tip of tail (mother Brightheart)

**Queens-**

_Honeydrop_- light brown tabby she-cat (kits Ferretkit, Creamkit, Oakkit)

_Poppyleaf_- tortoiseshell she-cat

_Brook where Small Fish Swim (Brook)_- brown tabby she-cat with gray eyes, formerly of the Tribe of Rushing Water (kits Stonekit, Dawnkit)

_Daisy- _cream long-furred cat from the horseplace

_Whitewing_- white she-cat with green eyes

**Elders-**

_Longtail_- pale tabby tom with dark black stripes, retired early due to failing sight

**ShadowClan**

**Leader**- _Blackstar_- large white tom with huge jet-black paws

**Deputy**- _Russetfur_- dark ginger she-cat

**Medicine Cat**- _Littlecloud_- very small tabby tom

_Apprentice, Bramblepaw_

**Warriors-**

_Oakfur_- small brown tom

_Apprentice, Clovepaw_

_Rowanclaw_- ginger tom

_Smokefoot_- black tom

_Ivyleaf_- golden brown she-cat

_Owlwing_- dark brown tom with yellow eyes

_Apprentice, Branchpaw_

_Snowbird_- pure white she-cat

_Tawnypelt_- tortoiseshell she-cat with green eyes

_Apprentice, Darkpaw_

_Toadclaw_- dark gray-brown tom

_Marshtail_- dark gray tom

**Apprentices-**

_Branchpaw_- light brown tom with green eyes (mother Tawnypelt)

_Bramblepaw_- dark brown tabby tom (mother Tawnypelt)

_Clovepaw_- reddish brown she-cat (mother Tawnypelt)

_Darkpaw_- shadowy black tom

**Queens-**

_Appleheart_- dark ginger she-cat

**Elders-**

_Cedarheart_- dark gray tom

_Tallpoppy_- long-legged light brown tabby she-cat

**WindClan**

**Leader**-_ Onestar-_ brown tabby tom

**Deputy-** _Ashfoot-_ gray she-cat

**Medicine Cat**- _Kestrelflight-_ dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes

**Warriors-**

_Tornear-_ tabby tom

_Harefoot_- light brown tom

_Crowfeather_- dark gray tom

_Owlwhisker_- light brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Thicketpaw_

_Nightcloud_- black she-cat

_Breezepelt_- black tom

_Weaselfur_- ginger tom with white paws

_Apprentice, Hedgepaw_

**Apprentices-**

_Hedgepaw_- light brown tom with white chest

_Thicketpaw-_ dark brown tabby tom

**Queens-**

_Whitetail_- small white she-cat (kits Fogkit, Mistkit)

_Heathergaze_- light brown she-cat with heather-colored eyes

**Elders-**

_Webfoot- _dark gray tabby tom

**RiverClan**

**Leader-**_ Mistystar-_ gray she-cat with blue eyes

**Deputy**- _Reedwhisker-_ black tom

**Medicine Cat**-_Mothwing_- dappled golden she-cat

_Apprentice, Willowbranch_

**Warriors-**

_Dappleleaf_-tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes

_Voletooth_- small brown tabby tom

_Apprentice, Streampaw_

_Pounceclaw-_ dark brown tabby she-cat

_Pebblestone_- dark gray tom

_Beechfur_- light brown tom

_Apprentice, Nettlepaw_

_Rippletail_- dark gray tabby tom

**Apprentices-**

_Nettlepaw_- dark brown tabby tom with gray muzzle

_Streampaw-_ pale blue-gray she-cat with long fur

_Willowbranch_- tortoiseshell she-cat

**Queens-**

_Dawnflower_- pale gray she-cat

_Minnowscale_- gray and white she-cat (kits Skykit, Ravenkit, Smudgekit)

**Elders-**

_Swallowtail_- dark tabby she-cat, retired early due to failing sight

_Stonestream_- gray tom, retired early due to two damaged legs

_Mosspelt-_tortoiseshell she-cat with blue eyes

_Blackclaw_-smoky black tom

**BloodClan**

**Leader-**_ Heat_- dark ginger she-cat with amber eyes

**Advisor**- _Talon_- black tom with icy blue eyes

**A/N: I hope I can make my chapters as long as this…**


	3. Chapter 1

A/N: Thanks to the people who put me on favorite authors, stories, and story alert

**A/N: Thanks to the people who put me on favorite authors, stories, and story alert! Even if most of them didn't actually **_**review**_**…-sigh- Anyway, on with the story!**

Disclaimer: It was revealed Flamespirit-eth was actually a regular kid like the rest of the people on fanfiction, and not one of the Erins. Sigh.

**NOTE: Edited and revised 4/28/08**

* * *

**Chapter 1**

* * *

A dark ginger she-cat stood on a slope, a black cat sitting beside her. Below them, on the level ground, was a crowd of seemingly never ending cats.

"Soon," she declared, smiling, "it shall begin!"

The cats assembled below her yowled uproariously in approval, making a sound so loud it was surprising no one heard.

"Soon," they hissed to one another. "Soon, it shall begin. It will begin!"

* * *

"Ferretkit, wake up! Wake up!" A paw slapped and pushed a dark brown tom's body, shaking it. Ferretkit lazily blinked one eye open, finding himself looking at his sister, Creamkit.

"Go away," he muttered, closing his eye. "I wanna sleep. Don' wanna get up."

Creamkit's wide eyes grew wider, and she meowed, "But Ferretkit, don't you remember? Today's the day!" She started shaking a bit, presumably from excitement that she was desperately trying to hold in.

"Today's the day what?" Ferretkit mumbled, curling up next to their mother in the warm moss. He didn't care what day it was. Why should he care if the moss was so comfy, and his mother's side was so warm, and the nursery just seemed so protective and comforting…

"Honestly!" said Creamkit, now getting impatient as her tail waved around and she stamped one foot on the ground. "You can be so mousebrained sometimes!" Leaning over, she shouted into Ferretkit's ear, "Today's the day we're getting apprenticed!"

"I don't care if today's the day we're getting app–" Ferretkit broke off, suddenly realizing what Creamkit had said and what he was saying. Opening his eyes immediately, he scrabbled on the moss, tried to get up, failed, let out a cry of hurt, then tried to get up again, and succeeded.

"We're going to be apprentices!" he yowled. "Apprentices!"

Ferretkit and Creamkit's brother, Oakkit, who had been watching the scene from on top of their mother's back (who had been watching it too), leaped down and meowed, "Took you long enough to notice!" He lay down next to them and started licking his paws.

"I'm gonna get the best warrior for a mentor, of course," he purred, a smirk gracing his face.

"Who's the best warrior?" asked Creamkit.

Oakkit frowned. "Umm…Brambleclaw's good, that's why he's deputy, and Firestar is, of course, and, uh…" Oakkit's attention turned to the scent of the freshkill pile, which passed the kits' noses, carrying the rich scent of blood and tastiness, making Ferretkit's mouth water.

"I'm going to be the best warrior of all!" Ferretkit shouted as he ignored the scent of fresh-kill, interrupting Oakkit's speculation, right as Creampaw mewed, "Yeah, because you're going to get _Firestar_ as your mentor," and giggled.

Oakkit glared at both his siblings, brown tabby tail twitching. "Well, then you should be my mentor, huh?" he said sarcastically to Ferretpaw. Suddenly he stayed still, pricking his ears.

"What are you listening to?" asked Creamkit, cocking her head to the side.

"A fox coming into the nursery," replied Oakkit, as if he was saying that a ThunderClan cat was coming in to visit them.

"Really?!" Creamkit squealed, jumping back in fright. She skidded on the moss and tumbled to the ground with an ungraceful squeak, hurriedly licking a creamy furred paw.

"No!" said Oakkit, giving his sister one of his trademark annoyed glares, though not before suppressing a snigger at her tumble. "It's…it's…I think it's the sound Firestar makes when he's going onto the Highledge!"

Ferretkit's eyes lit up. "Really?! StarClan, this is the day I've been waiting for since I was born!" He sat up straight and pricked his ears, his unsheathed claws digging into the ground from anticipation.

Sure enough, they heard Firestar start to call, "Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey…"

The kits' mother, Honeydrop, had also heard Firestar. She bustled over to her kits, saying, "Oh, I haven't cleaned you yet! I can't believe you're already becoming apprentices…" and other things of the sort, and she set to frantically licking Ferretkit, Creamkit, and Oakkit, who all quailed and used various ways to attempt to avoid her tongue of doom.

"Moth-eerrr," groaned Ferretkit as he tried to avoid her tongue. "Do you _have _to clean us?" He quickly rolled over to escape from Honeydrop, not a good thing to do in hindsight – it got him dirtier, which would make their mother all the more determined to clean them.

"We have to look well-groomed for our apprentice ceremony, I guess," scowled Creamkit as she also shied away from Honeydrop.

"…gather here beneath the Highledge. It is time for one of my favorite duties," Firestar finished saying. Ferretkit could hear many paws scrambling to the ground beneath the Highledge.

Honeydrop sighed. "I haven't finished cleaning you yet! Oh well. Go to the Highledge, Berrytail and I will be watching you proudly!" The light brown tabby padded off with her mate, Berrytail, to beneath the Highledge with the other Clan cats.

"No longer will we have to stay in the nursery with Stonekit and Dawnkit anymore," Ferretkit murmured to his siblings excitedly.

"We'll be apprentices!" whispered Creamkit.

"Be quiet!" said Oakkit. "Firestar's starting to speak!" The kits went quiet, but were shaking with excitement.

"Today," announced Firestar, "is an important day for three of our kits. Ferretkit, Oakkit, and Creamkit have reached the age of six moons, and are ready to be made apprentices."

The Clan mewed in assent, and when they stopped, Firestar called for Creamkit, who scrambled forward, trying to stay still and not coming too close to succeeding.

"From this day forward, until you receive your warrior name, you will be Creampaw."

One of Creampaw's apprentice friends, Icepaw, started calling "Creampaw! Creampaw!" and the other two ThunderClan apprentices, Foxpaw and Specklepaw, joined in.

"I ask StarClan," –Firestar looked up at the sky– "to watch over you and guide you until you find in your paws the strength and courage of a warrior."

Creampaw, eyes shining, glanced up at Firestar, but feeling too awed, looked down again.

"Squirrelflight," the ThunderClan leader said, as all eyes turned to look at her. She had been gazing down at the ground with something indescribable in her eyes. The warrior looked up, surprised. Apparently she hadn't known she was going to be a mentor.

"You are ready for your first apprentice," Firestar continued. "ThunderClan asks you to show your skills as a good mentor."

As Firestar went on Squirrelflight dipped her head to the ground.

"I trust you to pass on all you have learned from Dustpelt to Creampaw, and help her become a warrior the Clan can be proud of."

"I," Squirrelflight paused, as if thinking about something, "promise I won't let the Clan down."

Creampaw, tired of standing still, raced forward and raised her muzzle to touch noses with her mentor.

It went the same with Oakkit, who became Oakpaw, and whose mentor became Ashfur. Oakpaw looked at him with admiration, and it was clear that in Oakpaw's eyes, Ashfur was the greatest warrior in the Clan. Ferretkit decided that his brother's opinion was too easily swayed – sure, Ashfur was good, but wouldn't it be great to have Firestar?

Finally, it was Ferretkit's turn. As Firestar recited the traditional words, his brain shut down, to be awakened when Firestar said the name of his mentor.

"Mousepatch," Firestar announced, naming the gray and white tom, Ferretpaw's new mentor. The young warrior looked up and bowed his head.

Ferretpaw's brain snapped awake. _Mousepatch?!_ _He _was going to be his mentor?!

* * *

**A/N: Cliffie! But not that much, because it's only a small reason why Ferretpaw doesn't want Mousepatch to be his mentor. I know what you are all thinking: "Why the hell did she put that in there?" Cause Ferretpaw is gonna be important to the story. -huggles Ferretpaw- I love him already. But then again, I love Oakpaw too. But Creampaw gets on my nerves. If any of you are wondering about Squirrelflight's OOCness, think about how**_** you**_** would have felt if you lost your one and only daughter. Yeah. I'll stop my rambling now. Just read and review, please! **


	4. Chapter 2

**A/N: I'm sorry for not updating! What with tennis camp 4 days a week, me recently taking up the clarinet, and devoting all of the 21****st**** to reading Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows (Yay! Finally!) , I've been pretty busy. I realize that whenever I put a line to change POV's or to show time passing, it doesn't show up. I have no idea why, but bare with me. **

**I have also recently gotten an interesting review by someone by the name of tronne. If you are reading this, tronne, here is my response to you: I am sure nothing made you click a cat topic, and read this story. I also find it interesting that out of all the 92 pages of stories about "stupid cats" you chose to pick mine. I also ask, how is writing about cats "weird" I suppose you also want S.F. Said, Erin Hunter, and other (gasp) cat writers to retire for the sake of you hating cats? I presume you think I was hurt by your review. Actually, when I read it, I was laughing. Just because somebody says cats are stupid and writing about them is weird will not make me sad and stop. I could go on for hours about your stupidity, but my readers want to read a story, not listen to me rant about you. So, on with the story!**

Disclaimer: Hail me, Erin Hunter! Yes, that's right, I'm the owner of Warriors! Me, and no one else! Do you hear me? No one – people rush into the room and take Flamespirit-eth to court-

**NOTE: Edited and revised 4/28/08**

* * *

**Chapter 2**

* * *

Mousepatch was a kittypet! Ferretpaw had heard that that was what he had used to be, and a kittypet couldn't mentor him! How was a kittypet supposed to mentor a future great warrior?

"Mousepatch, you are ready for your first apprentice…" the traditional words faded away into nothing in Ferretpaw's ears; he was too busy thinking of Mousepatch's faults.

The lithe apprentice had also heard he'd mated with a RiverClan cat. Firestar and Mistystar were softer than say, the ShadowClan leader, Blackstar, or the former RiverClan leader Leopardstar, so they'd gotten off pretty easy.

_Hmm,_ he thought. _Anything more? I heard he's not that good of a fighter…I'll have to tell all this to Firestar, maybe he'll see he made the wrong choice of mentor…_

Ferretpaw was so preoccupied with his thoughts, he didn't notice the other cats staring at him because he should have gone to touch noses with Mousepatch already.

"Ferretpaw," Firestar said.

Ferretpaw shook himself. "Huh, what?"

Firestar gave him an amused expression. "You have to touch noses with your mentor," he said kindly.

"What? Oh…" Ferretpaw cast his face downward and slunk over to Mousepatch, reluctantly touching noses. Mousepatch. On the other hand, was very eager and almost knocked him over with the force of what was supposed to be only a mere nose touch.

"Creampaw! Oakpaw! Ferretpaw! Creampaw! Oakpaw! Ferretpaw!" the cats started cheering for the new apprentices.

"We are lucky to have such eager and willing apprentices," Firestar spoke as the cheers and calls died down. "I hope they will train hard and and eventually become warriors that will serve their clan well."

_When I have my warrior ceremony, they may call me a warrior,_ Ferretpaw thought bitterly, _but I'll never be a true warrior, being mentored by a kittypet who doesn't follow the warrior code._

A faint breeze ruffled Ferretpaw's fur as he walked to the apprentice den. _Mousepatch _is_ a true warrior, Ferretpaw, _it seemed to say.

"Mousepatch, a true warrior," muttered the newly made apprentice under his breath. "Riiight."

* * *

Firestar knew Ferretpaw wanted to talk to him – or so it seemed to like it. And if he did know, he didn't want it to happen. He went for sharing tongues with Sandstorm beneath the Highledge, to visiting the queens and kits in the nursery, to discussing ShadowClan with Duspelt.

The indignant apprentice paid no attention to the fact that Firestar did things like this every day.

Finally, Firestar went up the Highledge and padded to his den! Ferretpaw went to follow him, putting down his paws lightly

WHUMP!

"Aaaagh!" Ferretpaw yowled, falling with a thump to the ground as a cat tackled him. The dust around him rose from the force of the fall, covering his fur and face. He got up unsteadily then shook himself, getting nearly all the dust off. At last he looked into the face of his ambusher. It was Oakpaw.

"What was that for?" Ferretpaw grumbled, trying to walk away. His brother stopped him.

"You don't usually start training the day you're apprenticed," said the dark brown tabby, "but you _do_ at least talk with your mentor." He looked pointedly at Ferretpaw.

"So what? I was busy!"

Oakpaw snorted. "Busy, hm? Your 'business' seemed to be you staring at wherever Firestar was."

Ferretpaw muttered something unintelligible. "Yeah, well, er, things aren't always what they seem!" He started to stalk away, but Oakpaw was stronger and burlier than his him, giving him an advantage. Before Ferretpaw could get far, Oakpaw pushed him into the warriors den, also pulling him by the scruff at some times. The brown tabby then dragged him to Mousepatch, who was across the den.

He pushed Ferretpaw up to his mentor, making him teeter slightly, then said shortly, "Here's your apprentice," and walked off, presumably to find his own mentor.

After Oakpaw had disappeared out of sight, Mousepatch looked at Ferretpaw with an expresstion that was neither impatient nor angry, as he had expected him to be.

"So?"

"Um…er…" Ferretpaw looked everywhere but at the cat in front of him, desperately thinking of a way to escape.

Mousepatch half smiled. "Yes?"

"I…uh…have to make dirt! Yeah!" Not waiting for an answer, Ferretpaw tore out of then den and to the Highledge, fiercely scrabbling up it and trying to be completely silent at the same time; a rather impossible feat.

_How does Firestar make this look so_easy_?_ Ferretpaw thought, gritting his teeth. _You have to be _giant _to get up here!_ Ferretpaw's face started to burn as he sensed cats hearing the noise he was making and turning to look at him. The embarrassed apprentice breathed slowly, trying to persuade his mind that he was in a battle, he was winning, and the cats were watching him in awe. It didn't work.

Finally he got up, hoisting himself using a particularly large outcrop. Leaps and bounds, Firestar gets up here, _leaps and bounds… Oakpaw might have been able to do it. _A little voice in Ferretpaw's head murmured. He tried to ignore it; he hated the fact that Oakpaw and Creampaw were bigger than him. Honeydrop said he was _lithe_. Right. He was just a weak little cat who probably would never be able to be a great fighter because of it. Instead he would have to stick to stupid stuff like hunting.

A frown now on his face, Ferretpaw nervously stepped in the front of the small opening to his leader's den. Craning his head forward, the apprentice called a bit timidly, "Can I come in?"

Firestar's voice rose out of the cave, patient, but also…a bit annoyed? "Yes, Ferreetpaw?" Said apprentice shook his head in wonder as he walked in; it seemed amazing his leader could distinguish all of the scents of his fellow Clan cats. Ferretpaw himself could only tell those of his family, and the other cats that had been in the nursery.

"Erm…hi," he mumbled, suddenly becoming very interested in his paws.

Firestar's eyes glimmered in faint amusement. "Is that all you wanted to say?" he said, walking out of his moss and sitting on the ground. "Hi?"

"No," Ferretpaw said a little louder. The little voice in his head returned. _Go on. Impress your leader. Don't stand about like a mousebrain._

_How do I impress him if I'm about to tell him the mentor he gave me is horrible?_ he replied.

"Well, are you going to say anything more? Are you talking to voices in your head?" Firestar's voice, chuckling a bit, came out of nowhere as the sound of a voice from reality jerked Ferretpaw from his thoughts. Like always. He needed to learn how to pay attention more.

_He doesn't know how right he was,_ Ferretpaw thought grimly. "No," he said. "I…have something to say about my – my new mentor." Ferretpaw shut his eyes and braced himself for the upcoming anger caused by questioning his leader's choices.

He waited for a few seconds. Nothing happened. "Why are your eyes closed?" the ThunderClan leader asked.

What, no anger? Ferretpaw opened his eyes. "No reason," he said quickly.

Firestar didn't say anything after that, but the look in his eyes told Ferretpaw to start talking already, so the newly made apprentice obeyed it. The words rushed out of Ferretpaw's mouth before he could stop them.

"Why did you make Mousepatch my mentor?"

Firestar did not seem surprised by the outburst. In fact, he merely cocked his head, raised his eyebrows, and said, "Why not?"

Ferretpaw narrowed his amber eyes. This seemed too easy. Why wasn't Firestar angry? It was like he was enjoying this! Leaders weren't supposed to enjoy apprentices coming up to their dens to bug them and complain. _If I'm ever leader…_ Ferretpaw cut off the thought before he'd get another question asking him what in StarClan he was doing again. Nonetheless, the apprentice continued. "Well, first, he was a _kittypet_," Ferretpaw began, oblivious to Firestar suddenly stiffening. "Kittypets don't understand the warrior code. Mousepatch proved that when he had kits with a RiverClan cat."

"The RiverClan cat in question, Minnowscale, is not a kittypet," Firestar's voice was still patient, but his body was also still stiff.

Ferretpaw was not deterred. He had made sure to be well informed before arguing is "case". As he had tried to get to Firestar right after his apprentice ceremony, one wonders how he got his information. "But Minnowscale didn't obey the warrior code when she was a kit, even!" he mewed. "She told her littermates to eat bad Twoleg stuff."

Firestar's voice remained even. It seemed nothing could upset him. "While this is true, they were young kits, and didn't know any better."

_I wouldn't have drank it, and I was a kit just this morning, _the apprentice thought. _Whatever, I'll just continue._ "Mousepatch also isn't a good fighter!" Ferretpaw argued. "I've heard cats say that!"

Firestar smiled. _StarClan!_ thought Ferretpaw. _I didn't want to make him angry, but he seems so happy I don't want Mousepatch that now I do!_ "You seem to forget that Mousepatch is also one of the best hunters in the clan." Ferretpaw muttered something inaudible about what good hunting would be during a battle. "Your memory must be rather flawed," Firestar continued, "as I seem to remember Berrytail and Mousepatch are brothers, thus making you his nephew and part kittypet, am I right?"

_Foxdung!_ Ferretpaw thought as he stiffened._ I forgot about Berrytail! _"But…" Ferretpaw tried to think of an excuse. "But Berrytail was _Brambleclaw_'s apprentice, and he became a really good fighter! I'm _his_ son, not Mousepatch's."

"And yet Mousepatch was also trained by a Clan cat too, who also taught him how to fight. Well, I guess there will always be some mysteries."

Ferretpaw felt –and knew– that this argument wasn't going the way it was supposed to. For one, he was still sure leaders were supposed to be serious, not joking around and being unreasonable and things like that. There was only one thing left to do now. The apprentice looked up at his leader with wide amber eyes, hoping the baby look would still work even when one was not a kit anymore. "Please, Firestar, can I have a different mentor? Pleeeeease?!"

Firestar gave him a sympathetic smile and said, "I'm sorry, Ferretpaw, but you will have to be content with Mousepatch, who is a good cat." Firestar stood up and began walking out of the den. "Now if you excuse me, I need to talk with Brambleclaw." Ferretpaw watched his leader leap down from the Highledge that had given him such a hard time to climb up. Letting out a deep sigh, Ferretpaw padded out of the den and awkwardly made his way down the Highledge, definitely not looking forward to an apprenticeship with a warrior code-disobeying warrior who did not have great fighting skills.

How would he ever get a truly good mentor now?

* * *

**A/N: There, good? I thought this chapter was kinda amusing. For anyone wondering, these are the descriptions of Ferretpaw, Oakpaw, and Creampaw:**

**Ferretpaw: dark brown tom with a white chest and dark green eyes**

**Oakpaw: dark brown tabby tom with amber eyes**

**Creampaw: creamy brown she-cat with amber eyes**

**I will try to update soon! And hopefully get to the part where Russetkit makes her appearance… **


	5. Chapter 3

**A/N: Short chapter this time, sorry. I was gonna make it longer, but I decided there was a better place to stop. But don't worry, it all really starts next chapter.**

Disclaimer: I am not the owner of Warriors, but soon I will be! Mwahahahaha!

**NOTE: Edited and revised 4/28/08**

* * *

**Chapter 3**

* * *

The days passed. Whenever possible, Ferretpaw would complain about Mousepatch to the other apprentices. Eventually, Specklepaw took up the habit of pretending to be deaf when he started complaining, and the other apprentices followed her and did the same.However, that didn't stop Ferretpaw, though he didn't appreciate it very much either.

"Be grateful, Ferretpaw," Specklepaw snapped to him one morning. "At least you're getting mentored to become a warrior, and in case you didn't notice, under Mousepatch's mentoring, you've become the best hunter out of all the apprentices!"

Ferretpaw snorted and replied, "Fat lot of good that's gonna do in the middle of a battle!" He then glared at Specklepaw (she was getting really irritating, with her "deafness" and the way she couldn't understand his annoyance), padded to the fresh-kill pile, picked out a vole, and went back to the apprentice den, where Specklepaw was waiting for him. As he walked in, Specklepaw raised an eyebrow.

"What?" he asked, biting into the vole.

Specklepaw rolled her eyes. "Tell me, Ferretpaw," she said, sitting down and facing him. "What are you doing?"

Ferretpaw gave her a "What are _you_ doing?" expression. "Eating a vole."

"And how was that vole brought to our camp?"

"Some cat hunted it, and–" Ferretpaw broke off, glaring at Specklepaw. "What are you trying to do?"

"Be quiet and let me continue. And Ferretpaw, what does eating the prey some cat hunted do?" Specklepaw didn't wait for an answer, and swishing her ginger-tipped tail in annoyance, she said, "It gives you strength to do things, such as fight in battles, that's what! If cats didn't hunt, we wouldn't be able to fight! And guess what? And guess what? Almost half of that fresh-kill pile is the result of your 'horrible mentor Mousepatch' 's hunting!" Specklepaw finished and breathed deeply, glaring at Ferretpaw, who had stayed silent the whole time.

Taking his last bite of vole, Ferretpaw licked his muzzle, then asked, "What was the point of that?"

Specklepaw groaned, then said, "I'm going to happily train with my mentor, who is still excellent though she is not _perfect_ in _the most_ important thing in the world, fighting. Bye." Ferretpaw, who was busy wishing for a better mentor in his mind, rolled his eyes and did not catch the inflections on certain words. StarClan, why did Specklepaw do such stupid and useless things?

"Sure, bye," he muttered. "I'll go watch you train how to fight with your mentor, who _is_ a perfect fighter compared to mine."

* * *

"Uh, Mousepatch, I'm not feeling good. Can I go to Leafpool?" Ferretpaw looked up expectantly at Mousepatch and nervously shifted on his feet.

Something flickered in Mousepatch's eyes, and an expression flashed across his face, too quick for Ferretpaw to decipher. He shouldn't have cared, but something inside him felt the need to know exactly what Mousepatch was thinking.

"Okay, Ferretpaw." He paused. "I…" he paused again, "…hope you get well soon."

Ferretpaw half smiled and dashed away, but not in the direction of the medicine cat den. He hadn't been to the medicine cat den since he was a kit.

This was usually how Mousepatch-Ferretpaw interactions went. As training began, Ferrepaw came up with an excuse – he had to make dirt, he wanted to hunt by himself, and more. Anything to get away from Mousepatch. Today was no exception. Now there were no such things as exceptions for the brown apprentice. Obviously Ferretpaw had no ailment – he went to the fighting clearing, watching the other apprentices being taught to actually fight well, or so Ferretpaw thought.

Peering from behind the bushes, the apprentice watched Cinderheart and Squirrelflight teach Specklepaw and Creampaw. He saw them learn new and complicated looking fighting moves, saw them mock-battle with their mentors, saw them dodge and deflect moves their mentors used and saw the mentors not escape from moves the apprentices used. It did not occur to Ferretpaw that they might be letting their apprentices do such a thing so that they would get experience in what to do when succeeding in their hit.

_Oakpaw isn't there because he's already a brilliant fighter, just like Berrytail thought he would be,_ Ferretpaw thought ruefully._ What I would give to have Ashfur as a mentor, or Cinderheart, even though she's younger than Mousepatch…_

"Such good mentors…" he mumbled, gazing at the scene in rapture. He didn't notice that Creampaw was being taught the same moves as Mousepatch taught him. But then, he tended not to notice much when it came to anything to do with his apprenticeship to Mousepatch.

"Doing something?"

Right next to Ferretpaw was Mousepatch.

"What the…how'd you…I…StarClan…"

Mousepatch smiled. "I don't speak gibberish, sorry."

"What?"

The gray and white tom grinned. "Nothing. Come on, let's get out of these bushes."

Specklepaw pricked her ears while fighting with Cinderheart; the bigger form of Mousepatch added more noise as he and his apprentice went back out of the bushes.

"Okay, Ferretpaw," Mousepatch began. "I know what you've been doing these past few sunrises."

"I…I…haven't been doing anything…honest…" _I bet what he's thinking might not even be right anyway. _

_He just caught you in the bushes. Face it, he probably does know._

_Voice, shut up and go talk to some foxdung. It'll be happier to speak to you than I am._

"Ferretpaw, it's obvious what you're doing. Your sneakiness needs improving, not that I want it to improve."

_Is that all you're gonna say? Tell me to improve on my sneakiness, then tell me you don't want me to? _Ferretpaw gave a tiny groan and gazed at the ground. If only Firestar had decided to give him another mentor that day. Then none of this would be happening and he would be being taught how to be a fantastic fighter.

"You despise me for being a kittypet and breaking warrior code. You hate that I'm not as good at fighting as I am at hunting. I know what you think of me."

Ferretpaw started to think _Yeah, Firestar does cause I told him, not–_ but then stopped, for he actually wasn't sure Firestar had told Mousepatch anything. In fact, he didn't think Firestar had told Mousepatch anything at all…what was Mousepatch, a mind reader? Just another reason to dislike him.

Mousepatch looked Ferretpaw straight in the eye and said, "I know I'm not perfect. Every cat would like to be, but no cat is – not even cats like Firestar. Ferretpaw, please accept me as your not-so-perfect mentor, and you will become a true warrior, I promise." So saying, he padded away and lay down by himself. Ferretpaw noticed for the first time how lonely he looked, despite the fact he had siblings and plenty of friends.

_It was just sappy stuff he said,_ Ferretpaw thought._ Sappy stuff, and nothing more. Not to be paid attention to. And he probably lie alone just to make it look like he was sad, so that he'd convince me more easily. Well, that definitely won't work. My mentor thinks I'm an idiot, but I'm not. He's the idiot._

And yet, Ferretpaw knew he would never be able to say things like that, and a reluctant respect grew for Mousepatch in his heart.

Reluctant. For the layer of respect was still thin, and could be crushed or cracked any time.

* * *

**A/N: God, waaay to corny. Well, the line before the last, at least. Not to mention the fact I disagree with how Mousepatch said no cat is perfect. Firestar is. But that's not the point. Important note here: I'm not updating until I get around 35 reviews or more. I have over 300 hits for this fic, and I'm not ignoring that, so people who reviewed before, please review, and people who are reading this fic but not reviewing, also please review. **


	6. Chapter 4

**A/N: Another short chapter, but I consider this one the real beginning of the story. **

**Disclaimer: Flamespirit-eth is not Erin Hunter, duh, but right now that doesn't matter to her, as she is trying to figure out why the heck she didn't put her disclaimer in bold before.**

**NOTE: Edited and revised as of 4/28/08**

* * *

**Chapter 4**

* * *

"The cats going to the gathering are Leafpool, Brambleclaw, Birchfall, Stormfur, Cinderheart, Brook, Ashfur, Squirrelflight, Foxpaw, Specklepaw, Oakpaw, and Ferretpaw," Firestar said to ThunderClan, then jumping off the Highledge. As always, comments filled the clearing: of those who wanted to go but didn't, excited mews of those going, and other remarks.

One in particular belonged to Oakpaw, as he whispered to Ferretpaw, "Why are _you_ going? Almost all you've done since you were apprenticed is complain about your mentor! Creampaw should be going in your place, or Mousepatch!"

"Well Firestar obviously thought I was doing something right," Ferretpaw replied as they followed Firestar out of camp. Maybe Firestar knew he was doing something right be refusing to be trained by Mousepatch after all. Or the sudden respect. Ferretpaw didn't care which one, really.

"I wouldn't necessarily call suddenly respecting Mousepatch 'right'," his brother muttered.

Their talking eventually turned to excitement about their first gathering. Ferretpaw, determined to be the first apprentice on the island, ran only Firestar through almost all of WindClan territory, leaving Oakpaw behind.

"Arrogant piece of mousedung."

Oakpaw turned around and saw Specklepaw, whose eyes were set on the running form of Ferretpaw up ahead.

The brown tabby said nothing, and the two apprentices remained silent for a few moments, treading on the hilly WindClan land.

Angrily swishing her tail, Specklepaw spoke again. "Running excitedly to his first gathering like any of us, but he didn't deserve it, did he?"

Once again Oakpaw chose to say nothing, instead studying the landscape around them. Sure, he might have been annoyed with his brother, too, but he was his _brother._

"Yeah, the brown ground and the absence of trees is really interesting, isn't it?" Specklepaw remarked, obviously noticing what Oakpaw was doing.

Of course the tabby tom didn't have anything to say in response. Instead, he ran ahead to join the other apprentice, Foxpaw.

--

Almost tripping over the tree trunk in excitement, Ferretpaw took his first step onto the island. Up ahead he could smell the other clans. WindClan, RiverClan, ShadowClan, and some other smell. It was probably the rogues Ferretpaw had heard Cloudtail talking about with Spiderleg a few days ago. He idly wondered if rogues were trained to be good fighters.

As he looked up at the full moon casting a bright light than on usual nights on the landscape and cats, he could hardly stay still. _I'm here! At a Gathering! I'm at a real Gathering!_ Ferretpaw raced in the direction of the scents, his tail flying out behind him, paws skimming the ground. Or at least he was until he tripped on a large pebble.

"Murr-oww!" Ferretpaw yelped as he tumbled over and on to the ground. As he lay, the stench of ShadowClan came near, and a voice above him said, "Smooth."

Ferretpaw blinked and looked up, finding himself looking at a grinning cat with amber eyes that gleamed mischievously.

A bit unsteadily, Ferretpaw got to his feet and asked, "Who are you?"

The apprentice bent his head down deeply with a flourish, somehow making it look like a mockery at the same time. "Bramblepaw, apprentice medicine cat of ShadowClan."

Ferretpaw got a full look at him for the first time, and before he could say something else, he said, "You look just like him!"

Bramblepaw's nose wrinkled slightly. "Brambleclaw, you mean? I always get that, but not in a good way, most of the time. Because Brambleclaw is the deputy of ThunderClanner, and for a ShadowClanner to look like a ThunderClanner is baaaaaaad." He rolled his eyes.

Ferretpaw knew he had not just met your typical ShadowClan cat.

"Don't know what they expected," Bramblepaw muttered. "I am his sister's son, after all."

"There you are, Ferretpaw!" said a voice in the distance, coming close as Oakpaw skidded beside Ferretpaw. "I was looking for you. Were you trying to get away from Specklepaw?"

"No, I–"

"He tripped on a pebble I put on the ground," Bramblepaw said. Before waiting for a response or reaction, he said "Gotta go," and dashed away.

"Wait, you put that there just so I could trip on it?! Come back here!" Leaving Oakpaw behind, Ferretpaw ran off after Bramblepaw, but it was shortlived, as the apprentice tripped on a pebble. Which was not there before.

"And that," said Oakpaw, failing to stifle a mrrow of laughter, "is why should never race to the island on your first gathering, instead of listening to the older apprentices telling who and what to look out for."

Giving only an incoherent grumble in response, the apprentice stomped off to the clearing where the other Clan cats were. Cats that didn't put pebbles on the ground for one to trip on – and what kind of medicine cat made cats get hurt anyway? They were supposed to heal cats, not injure them. Not that he had been particularly injured, but it was the thought that counted.

--

"…and Willowpaw, apprentice medicine cat to Mothwing, has now received her full name, Willowbranch," Mistystar finished, as the cats turned to look at her.

Ferretpaw stifled a yawn. The Gathering wasn't it all it was cracked up to be. Sure it was fun before it_ really_ started, meeting new cats and swapping stories, and _getting pranked on by apprentices_ – he really needed to get back at that dirty-rotten-no-good-ShadowClan-Bramblepaw by the way –, and hearing Firestar announce him as a new apprentice was pretty cool, but once it _really_ started, all you did was sit around and listen to the leaders tell Clan news. Why couldn't something happen? Ferretpaw had heard that it was in the middle of a gathering that Graystripe returned, causing the Gathering to end while even cats who didn't like him welcomed him back.

The boringness of the gathering, coupled with how it was an unusually warm night made Ferretpaw drowsy, and it was all he could do not to collapse and fall asleep; indeed, he would often find his head drooping over onto his shoulder, and his tail with not an ounce of energy contained inside it. As he struggled to keep his eyes open, he felt his eyes were playing tricks on him. It looked like there were shadows of cats on the branches behind the leaders.

While the last leader, Onestar, spoke, Ferretpaw blinked several times, and stifled a yawn or two…or four or five. Trying to focus on cats or trees so not to go to sleep didn't help much either.

Finally Onestar finished. The Gathering was announced over, the leaders leaped off the branches, and the cats turned to follow whichever one was theirs, when suddenly a voice purred, "I believe it's my turn."

Though the purr was quiet, the sound reached throughout the clearing, catching the ear of almost every cat, and those few who didn't hear caught on quickly when they saw the others turning back. Many cats murmured, "Huh?" or "What…?", and even the leaders had frowns or confused expressions gracing their faces. What cat would have the nerve to come and think of themselves and whatever cats they might have with them as a Clan? Or even a leader, if they had probably never heard of StarClan and that leaders had to have nine lives?

The four leaders went back to the tree, jumping on to the branches, while the Clan cats went back to the clearing. On the branches with leaders was a dark ginger she-cat with amber eyes and several scars. Next to her was a black cat almost invisible in the shadows, with only his icy blue eyes showing he was there.

"Who are you?" Blackstar spat, eyes narrowing.

The she-cat smiled. "I am Heat, leader of BloodClan."

Instantly tons of cats stepped out from behind the shadows given by the trees surrounding the clearing. All were lean and sinewy with scars, and all wore teeth embedded collars around their neck, as every leader's dignity disappeared and their mouths dropped open. BloodClan…how could that be?

Ferretpaw immediately snapped out of his sleepiness, and as he took in the sight of the BloodClan cats, he knew it. These cats, _these cats _were great warriors.

So they had been evil in the tales told by the elders, but that had probably changed when they saw that StarClan was real.

An expression of wild joy entered Ferretpaw's face, but his was the only one. Every other cat was disgusted or frightened, as every cat had learned of what had happened at one time or another, or actually been in it.

But Ferretpaw didn't care. These cats _were_ great warriors and he was going to join them.

* * *

**A/N: AHAHAHAHAHA! BLOODCLAN!FERRETPAW! AHAHAHAHAHA! Anyway, yes, I do believe, BloodClan realized StarClan was real. And that means they can get nine lives…-evil smile- Well, R&R!**


	7. Chapter 5

**A/N: Wow...there's actually nothing to say for once…XD**

**Disclaimer: Yeah, I **_**totally**_** believe Erin Hunter would come here and write fanfiction. **_**Totally.**_

**Chapter 5**

"But we beat BloodClan in battle!" Mistystar hissed. "We destroyed them!"

Heat smirked. "Do you really think BloodClan would submit so easily? And no one would rebuild it? Scourge…he had a kit."

"You, I presume?" Mistystar said dryly.

"And I thought you clan cats were smart," Heat said mockingly. "I'm too young to be his kit. But Talon here…"

The black tom stepped more out the shadows, so the clan cats could get a clearer look at him. The warriors who had fought in the battle with BloodClan were sure that if it wasn't for his larger size, he could have been Scourge brought back to life.

"…Talon, my advisor, is that kit's son."

"Then who are you?" Onestar demanded. "How did an ordinary BloodClan cat rise up to leader instead of your…advisor?"

"I was leader." Talon spoke for the first time, in a quiet voice that every cat somehow managed to hear. "But when I saw Heat when she was a kit, I knew she was the leader my father's prophecy spoke of."

Mutters from the clan cats started.

"A prophecy…"

"A prophecy from Scourge's kit? Pfft."

"A prophecy? BloodClan don't believe in StarClan!"

Heat heard the last one and turned to the cat who spoke it, a dark ginger she-cat. "Oh, we believe in StarClan now," Heat purred. "How could we not, after Scourge's death?" The BloodClan leader glared at Firestar, as if it was all his fault Scourge had died. Which of course, it was. "That of course means soon I'll be going to you…what do you call it…Moonpool, and receive my nine lives…"

"Lives?" the dark ginger cat gasped. "But…you're…you're not a clan cat…"

"I am! I am leader of the _clan_ BloodClan. StarClan can't refuse me." The smile that spread across Heat's face was positively dangerous.

"Who _are_ you?" the she-cat snarled/

Heat responded with an odd answer. "Not a fullborn BloodClan cat, that's for sure. Since around three weeks old, yes, but before that…"

The she-cat frowned. "Before that?" she echoed.

"Before that, I was Russetkit. Russetkit of ThunderClan."

Firestar and his deputy, Brambleclaw, stiffened, and most of ThunderClan widened their eyes. A strangled sob echoed throughout the clearing, coming from the she-cat.

"No," she whispered. "No…"

"What?" said Heat. "In disbelief that a former ThunderClanner could be so 'bad'?"

"Not that…" the she-cat said."You were…you were…" the she-cat fell to the ground, tears flowing freely. "You were my kit!" Squirrelflight cried.

Heat laughed. "Oh, this is good!" She looked down at Squirrelflight. "What, you think now I know you were my mother I'm going to instantly turn good and forget about BloodClan?" Heat said scornfully. "You were my parent, but you didn't raise me. I was born in ThunderClan, but I am BloodClan at heart. I am BloodClan and always will be. And nothing will stop me from that. Nothing."

Talon chuckled softly. "These ThunderClanners," he said. "Always believing everyone is good."

"Anyway," said Heat. She leapt off the tree branch, Talon following her. "BloodClan, disperse!" she yowled. The BloodClan cats disappeared into the shadows, apparently going back to wherever their camp was.

"I do believe," Heat purred, "that it's time to leave. And this gathering," she announced as she and Talon padded out of the clearing, the clan cats backing away to make room for them, "is officially over!"

The cats stayed silent for minutes after BloodClan left.

"Well," said Firestar, sighing, "it's time to leave."

-----

The ThunderClan cats came back to camp decidedly more tired looking and grave than when they had left, Squirrelflight especially.

Creampaw bounded up to the group of cats. "How was it?" she asked excitedly. Then she saw the solemn gazes of every cat and went quiet.

"I guess I should, uh, go back to the apprentice den…" she murmured, padding away.

Ferretpaw and Oakpaw went to the apprentice den as Firestar went up to the Highledge to explain what had happened during the gathering, Ferretpaw looking the complete opposite of everyone else that had been to the gathering.

"You're not _happy_ that BloodClan is here, are you?" Oakpaw said incredulously as they lay down on the moss.

"Er…no," said Ferretpaw nervously. "Just excited for the battles that are going to happen with them here." _And I intend to be with them in those battles,_ he added silently.

"Always ready for a fight, aren't you?" Oakpaw rolled his eyes and buried himself deeper in his moss. "As much as I also want to fight, you do know _you_ could die, right? This isn't a practice fight with our mentors."

_Not that my mentor didn't help me any with them,_ Ferretpaw thought. His unwilling respect for Mousepatch had all gone the moment Ferretpaw had seen Heat. And it was unlikely it was ever going to return either.

"Yeah, I know, I know," Ferretpaw muttered. "I," he yawned, "know…" he said drowsily, curling up and finding the moss very comfortable. He fell asleep as soon as his head touched the moss. He had the most wonderful dreams.

Those dreams? In every one, he was a warrior- a warrior of BloodClan.

* * *

**A/N: Dang, have my chapters been getting shorter and shorter. I'll try to make them longer…well, R&R please!**


	8. Chapter 6

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long. I couldn't figure out how to start this chapter. Also, start expecting slower updates, as school is starting for me in a few days.**

**Disclaimer: Read this word: Fanfiction. Fanfiction. FANfiction.**

**Chapter 6**

ThunderClan life was a dream. BloodClan life was reality.

Or is it was for Ferretpaw ever since BloodClan's appearance at the gathering. Whenever he could, Ferretpaw would go "hunting", or rather, spend hours trying to find BloodClan's camp. The apprentice had since learned not to try skiving off training. And he couldn't afford to try it this time, for what he was doing now would have more consequences if he was found out than simply watching other apprentices being trained.

Occasionally Ferretpaw would catch a faint BloodClan scent, but he never got very far with it. It seemed hopeless he would ever find BloodClan, let alone join them.

"Ferretpaw, you're so unfocused!" Mousepatch said one day during a training session. "It's like you're living in a daydream!"

A similar phrase was also said by Oakpaw. The two cats didn't know how right they were.

For Ferretpaw, there were only three places he could be: the apprentice den, the training clearing, and out in the forest, looking for BloodClan.

"I declare this gathering over!"

The four clan leaders and Heat jumped off the tree branches, leading their clans to camp, Ferretpaw starting to follow Firestar.

Suddenly Ferretpaw knew how he could find BloodClan. It was ridiculously simple. How could he have not seen it before? _I'm such a mousebrain,_ Ferretpaw thought. The apprentice waited for BloodClan to come to the fallen trunk so he could follow them.

"Ferretpaw, why are you waiting?" A voice called. Ferretpaw turned around. It was Creampaw.

"Err…" Ferretpaw fidgeted, eyes darting to the trees where BloodClan had disappeared into. "Going to make dirt." He turned back around and walked quickly in the direction of the BloodClan scent, tail twitching nervously.

Creampaw spoke up again. "If you're only going to make dirt. Why are you going that way?" she mewed.

Ferretpaw groaned inwardly. If he waited any longer, he wouldn't be able to follow BloodClan. "Uhh…I'm also…hunting! I'm also going hunting." The apprentice shifted from side to side, anxious to get away.

"Oh." There was a pause. Just as Ferretpaw turned around to disappear into the forest, Creampaw said, "Great! I'll come with you!"

Ferretpaw's eyes widened. _Foxdung!_ he cursed. "Um, okay." Inside his mind was churning out thoughts by the second._ How do I get away from her? Why did she have to notice me? At least it's not Oakpaw…but she's so annoyingly cheerful! Why did StarClan do this to me?_ Ferretpaw ran out of the clearing to the trunk in a futile attempt to lose Creampaw, the creamy brown she-cat following.

Ferretpaw didn't catch anything, of course; he was busy searching for BloodClan scent. Instead he smelled something else, but he didn't remember the name of it. The apprentice faintly remembered smelling it during the gathering.

"You don't seem focused on hunting, Ferretpaw. You also haven't made dirt like you said you had to."

Since when had Creampaw become so observant? When they were kits, Creampaw could never remember anything, and never noticed anything either…she hadn't even noticed that Oakpaw was sick with whitecough once. Of course, they _had_ been kits…

"Well, I realized I didn't have to make dirt. You know how that happens…"

"Oh." Creampaw cast a faintly suspicious look at Ferretpaw and walked away.

Ferretpaw went back to concentrating on finding BloodClan's scent. If only Creampaw hadn't noticed him, and he could have been following BloodClan to their camp right now.

And what was that other scent? It was very strong, but not in a good way. The brown furred apprentice knew he knew the name of it…

"I just caught a mouse!" Ferretpaw started at the sound of Creampaw's voice, and watched her drop a piece of prey from her mouth onto the every growing pile, none of which had come from Ferretpaw.

"When are we going back to camp? The clan might be worried about us."

Ferretpaw ignored the remark. If luck went his way, the clan would never worry about him coming back to camp late anyway.

That strong smell was now seriously starting to irritate Ferretpaw. It almost covered up all the scents in the area, with only second's worth of BloodClan scent to smell every now and then. _What was it called?_ It started with a guh sound. Guh…guh…gah, gah, gar…garlic! It was garlic!

But why was the smell of garlic even there? Ferretpaw dimly remembered what garlic looked like, and he hadn't seen any here.

Wait…covering up…hadn't Longtail once said garlic was used to cover up your scent? Ferretpaw remembered how it was garlic he had always smelled, and a bit of BloodClan scent sometimes, and hadn't he smelled garlic earlier during the gathering? _That's it!_ Ferretpaw thought excitedly. _BloodClan's been covering themselves with garlic scent so no cat can find them!_

"Creampaw, let's, uh, go this way!"

"Okay," Creampaw said brightly as she buried her pile of prey. "I think I hunted all the prey here anyway."

Ferretpaw didn't pay attention to her, completely absorbed in following the smell of the garlic. The only annoying thing was how he had to stop every now and then so Creampaw could hunt, but it wasn't _that_ annoying, not now when Ferretpaw was clearly seeing his BloodClan future spread out in front of him.

For a long time Ferretpaw steadily walked after the garlic scent, still walking though he should have been at camp asleep.

"Ferretpaw, I really think we should be going to camp now. The clan will be really worried about us." Creampaw's voice penetrated Ferretpaw's thoughts. He rolled his eyes in irritation and continued walking past the abandoned Twoleg nest they were near.

Creampaw spoke again. "Really, Ferretpaw, we've got to go to camp. We should be sleeping right now. Think how worried Oakpaw, and Honeydrop and Berrytail are…"

Ferretpaw decided not to ignore Creampaw this time. "Okay, I guess it is late," he replied. "I just need to make dirt. Why don't you go on ahead, and I'll catch up with you."

"Sure," she said, and ran tiredly the other way to ThunderClan camp.

Ferretpaw sighed in relief, then looked from side to side, making sure no one was watching. He then started running in the direction of the garlic smell, which had at that point seemed to fade away and give way to BloodClan scent. The apprentice ran and ran, getting far out of ThunderClan territory, and even beyond the whole territory of the clans, only following the BloodClan scent.

He didn't look back.

------

Ferretpaw had been walking for what seemed like hours. He was far past the clans' territory, and he wondered why BloodClan lived so far from it.

Where he was now was nothing like ThunderClan camp or anywhere else he head ever been. It was very colorless and shabby, with no green or blue or other bright colors he saw in the forest every day. The ground was hard and gray, and though there were small Twoleg nests where he currently was, he could see tall gray ones in the distance. If he craned his neck, he could still see the forest that was his home- no, _had_ been his home.

The scent of BloodClan was very strong now, and Ferretpaw knew he was very near their camp. As he sleepily walked toward the camp, he wondered how a cat could even make a camp out of this place. The apprentice saw other cats darting here and there, with BloodClan scent pouring off of them. They didn't notice him though.

Ferretpaw grew more confident as he walked along, imagining more fantasies of him as a BloodClan cat, which, he thought, couldn't really be considered as fantasies anymore, because they'd soon be real. He'd a be a fighter- a much better fighter than any clan cat- and he would be well-known for that, respected and maybe even feared a bit. So engrossed was he in his imaginings he didn't notice the sudden pawsteps behind him, nor the feeling one usually gets when someone is behind them.

"Well, what do we have here?"

Ferretpaw whirled around, almost tripping over himself. In front of him was a large brown tom with black markings and a teeth embedded collar. Without taking in a sniff, the apprentice knew he was facing a real BloodClan cat, worthy of the tales the elders told of them.

"A little ThunderClanner, wanting to be a hero and kill the bad BloodClan leader, even though she had nine lives? Thinking she'll be as easy to defeat as they said Scourge was by the 'great' Firestar?"

Even after all the daydreams he had had of going up to BloodClan and boldly telling the cats he wanted to join them, words escaped Ferretpaw and he just stood there, succeeding in only making incoherent mumbles. He breathed deeply, trying not to shiver, then said in what was supposed to be a bold voice but came out a bit like a squeak, "I want to join BloodClan."

The BloodClan cat stared in disbelief for a second, then started laughing uproariously. A few passing cats turned to look at him with confusement, and some Twolegs stared at him, wondering why he was making that odd noise.

The tom finished laughing a few tears coming from his eyes, then said, "BloodClan have no time for jokes. We like getting straight to the point and getting the truth, and when cats don't do that…" the cat bared his teeth, which were frightfully long and sharp, and snarled softly. "You can guess the rest."

Ferretpaw stared at the BloodClan cat for a moment, then narrowed his eyes and arched his back, hissing. "I didn't come here to be ridiculed," he spat. "I dream about this for days and days, and when I come here, all you do is make fun of me! Well I tell you, if this is the way you accept recruits, it's no wonder you were beaten so easily before, with no one willing to join you! I came here to join BloodClan, and that's what I'm going to do, not let you stand there laughing at me because I'm from the clans!"

The BloodClan cat sat there silent for a second, then said, "Well, not the best speech, but I do believe I've found the impossible: a ThunderClanner with some sense." He smiled and said, "Call me Pardalis. You just might be lucky enough to get what you want."

"Uh." It took a minute for it to sink in that the BloodClan cat had actually approved of what he had said. Then came the thought,_ Pardalis? What a weird name._ "I'm Ferretpaw." From the look on Pardalis's face, he found the name Ferretpaw as odd as Ferretpaw found his own.

"Come with me," Pardalis said, already walking down the hard gray ground. "I'll take you to see Heat."

And Ferretpaw followed Pardalis farther into the Twoleg place, to Heat. And it would be decided if he would be BloodClan at last.

ThunderClan life was not even a dream. It was no more. And BloodClan? It truly was reality.

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**A/N: This was an…okay chapter. Anyway, R&R please, constructive criticism greatly appreciated!**


	9. Chapter 7

**A/N: Heh, sorry for the wait. I've been busy with school.**

**Disclaimer: Gee, so Erin Hunter's still in school? I never knew that…**

**Chapter 7**

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Pardalis led Ferretpaw farther into the Twoleg place. As they walked, Ferretpaw encountered more cats, who he believed were BloodClan. All of them shrank back a bit as he and Pardalis passed by. Pardalis was obviously one of the more feared BloodClan members, and Ferretpaw wondered what they would have done to him if he had been alone.

The farther Pardalis took Ferretpaw, the louder and the dirtier the place became. Shiny stuff crinkled under his paws, and he often had to dodge shards of sharp, also shiny, stuff. Pardalis told him it was glass, and was so sharp it could cause blood to spill. Eventually, instead of going straight ahead, Pardalis veered to the left, and with Ferretpaw following, headed next to one tall Twoleg nest, that was even dirtier than the rest of the place, and smelled awful. It was darkened from the shadows given by the Twoleg nests surrounding it, and next to the walls of the Twoleg nests were odd, gray cylindrical things, some with tops and some without.

"Is this where Heat is?" Ferretpaw asked skeptically, disbelieving that the BloodClan leader would live in such a repulsive place.

Pardalis didn't respond and padded down the gray ground to where it was darker. Ferretpaw noticed they were going downhill. Pardalis finally stopped, right in front of a hole that led underground.

"Down there is where Heat sleeps and discusses things with her advisor. When Heat wants to reward you, she calls you down there. But more often it is better to stay away," Pardalis hissed, seeming to be waiting for something. Ferretpaw suppressed a shiver at how casually the large BloodClan cat stated that.

_No, don't be soft like your old clan,_ Ferretpaw thought, grimacing. _You are BloodClan. BloodClan aren't soft, they aren't ThunderClan. _

"Sit straight," Pardalis commanded, as the faint outline of two cats appeared, coming up to the entrance. They were both dark gray, presumably so to blend in with the shadows and take cats by surprise. They didn't surprise Pardalis, though, but Ferretpaw had suspected that. The only reason Ferretpaw hadn't been surprised was because he had smelled the BloodClan scent with garlic mixed in so many times.

"State your reason for coming, Pardalis," one of the cats hissed.

"I have a recruit," Pardalis growled. "From the clans."

The two guards raised their eyebrows in unison, murmuring words of slight astonishment to one another.

"That was rather quick," said one. "We didn't think they'd catch on with the garlic, so thickheaded most of those clan cats are."

The other cat ran off back underground, then came back in just a few moments. "Heat will see you," he hissed. As Pardalis and Ferretpaw stepped into the entrance, the guard hissed, "Consider yourself lucky, clan cat. It took Pardalis himself three moons to even get here." He paused. "Though, of course, that might have been because Pardalis was a kittypet."

Ferretpaw's eyes widened. Pardalis? A kittypet? He turned his head to ask the cat more, but he had disappeared into the shadows.

The tunnel was fairly disgusting. It smelled just as bad as, or worse, than up above, and the ground was damp and a bit sticky, rather unlike anything Ferretpaw had walked on in the forest. He could also hear cats –or other animals, and maybe Twolegs- walking on the ceiling of the tunnel. Ferretpaw, shuddering a bit at the cool, slimy feel of the tunnel sides against his fur, wondered idly if those walking above could fall in.

"Enter," a voice said quietly, sounding amused. Ferretpaw recognized the voice. It was Heat's. Pardalis and Ferretpaw walked a little further, stopping after going around a corner. Long plants hung from the top, probably put there with some sticky mixture.

Heat spoke up again. "I like it when I don't have to wait," she said, her voice snaking out from behind the plants.

"Go," Pardalis said, giving Ferretpaw a push. He stumbled in through the plants, flinching as they tickled his back. The ground behind the plants was dryer, the smell was subtler, the air less cool-tinged. Ferretpaw thought he could hear Pardalis chuckling, but he wasn't sure.

Heat smiled at him. "You want to join?" she asked, her smile indicating that she was laughing inside. _Come to think of it_, Ferretpaw thought, _she's always like that. _

"Yes," he said firmly, sitting up straight. "I want to be part of BloodClan."

"Are you sure, little apprentice? We're not softhearted ThunderClan cats here." A black cat, Talon, Ferretpaw thought he was called, padded up beside Heat, carrying that same self satisfied smile, though his seemed to hold Ferretpaw in contempt. Ferretpaw hadn't even noticed he was there, so good at camouflage he was.

"I know," said Ferretpaw, rolling his eyes. "Why do you think I'm here?"

"Cheeky, aren't we?" Heat said. "That won't get you very far in BloodClan."

Ferretpaw groaned. Were they going to talk about his joining BloodClan or just warn him about it?

Talon nudged Heat, snorting. "I think little recruit is bored with two of the most dangerous cats in the city."

_City?_

"Funny," said Heat, not looking amused in the least. "Most like my chatter. I supposed they like the stalling. Of course, those are the ones that have done it before."

_Done it before? What's that supposed to mean?_ Ferretpaw narrowed his eyes. "I want to join BloodClan," he repeated. "I'm not here to hear you 'chatter'. I'm here to become a member of BloodClan."

Talon yawned. "Determined and cheeky, aren't you?" he said. "Comes from that ThunderClan blood. Typical. I'll come back when you get a real personality." The BloodClan advisor padded off farther into the den. Ferretpaw could dimly see more of those long plants, which must have been where Talon had gone.

"So," Heat said, smirking, "you think you can become a member of BloodClan?"

"I don't think," Ferretpaw responded. "I know."

"Sure," Heat said lazily. "Spine?"

A dark brownish black tom ran to Heat from behind the second hanging of plants. He looked around Ferretpaw's age. "Yes?" he asked.

"A hopeful recruit. Unsheathe your claws."

He did as she said, and Ferretpaw gasped. His claws were extremely sharp and long, just like how Tigerstar's had been described in the elders' tales.

"Why's he here?" Ferretpaw asked, trying to avoid Spine's deadly looking claws.

"He's your test," Heat replied, laughing.

"My test? What?" Ferretpaw didn't get the chance to say anymore, when a claw grazed his back. He turned around, seeing Spine, who had slipped away from Heat's side and started to attack him.

"Your entrance test," Spine growled, batting at his head.

Instantly pain seared in his head in the places Spine's claws had touched. What astonished Ferretpaw the most was he knew Spine hadn't even been trying. He'd batted him lightly.

Ferretpaw said nothing, just lunged at Spine, who quickly dodged out of the way.

"Fancy words, no skill, eh?" Spine said, laughing.

He narrowed his eyes. Ferretpaw always knew with Mousepatch as a mentor, his fighting skills hadn't been that good. And here was proof.

How could he beat Spine? The cat was a master, and only at apprentice age. Ferretpaw thought for a moment, recalling all the battles the elders told him about.

Firestar! Firestar had used the play dead move to defeat Scourge! Ferretpaw let Spine pin him down, pretending to struggle against him, then went limp. Just as Ferretpaw expected, Spine relaxed his grip, and Ferretpaw pushed himself up, springing onto Spine. Ferretpaw started to give a yowl of triumph, shoulders sagging, when suddenly he found himself on the ground again, Spine's claws piercing into him.

"H-how…" Ferretpaw struggled out, breathing heavily.

Spine interrupted him. "All of BloodClan knows how Scourge was killed. The first thing we learn now is how to defeat that move. Do you think BloodClan is stupid? Think again."

Spine sunk his claws into Ferretpaw's shoulders more, and he felt like screaming in pain. Red was clouding his gaze. "But-I-don't-think-BloodClan-is-stupid!" Ferretpaw yowled, barely getting the words out. "Why do you think I-joined-them?!"

"You obviously thought we were stupid enough to fall for that move after the battle with the clans."

Ferretpaw just grit his teeth and said nothing, just trying to bear the pain.

"You can stop now, Spine." The voice came out of nowhere. Slowly Spine released Ferretpaw, and unsheathed his claws.

It felt heavenly. Ferretpaw breathed in relief, though the pain was still there, then remembered. That had been a test. He had…he had failed.

"No…" Ferretpaw said huskily, getting up.

Spine was still there. "Yes."

"But…but…"

"You failed, little ThunderClan," a voice said smugly. It was Talon, who evidently had come back, and had probably been watching the fight.

"Talon's right," Heat said. "Go. Now. You're not BloodClan. My cats have full permission to hurt you if you don't leave quickly.

Ferretpaw glared at her. "I'm not giving up," he hissed. He ran out of the den, out of the tunnel, and back above ground, back in the awful smelling place beside the tall Twoleg nests. The tom stormed out of there, and bumped into Pardalis, who was laughing.

Ferretpaw's eyes narrowed. "You knew, didn't you?" he snarled. "You knew what was going to happen to me!"

"Of course I did, mousebrain," Pardalis said, a smile on his face full of mock pity. "Overconfident little ThunderClan, you were. Come back in, say, fifty moons. You might be able to beat a BloodClan kit by then."

Ferretpaw scowled, giving Pardalis a dirty look.

"Meanwhile, go back to your mousebrained ThunderClanners. I hear Firestar accepts anyone, even BloodClan wannabes."

"I'll be back," Ferretpaw said quietly. "And when I am, I'll be the best BloodClan of them all."

"Yes," Pardalis said, smiling benignly. "Best BloodClan compared to rabbits."

"I'll be back," Ferretpaw repeated, his voice cold. "And when I am, you'll be the first on my list to go."

"You have a lot to learn, Ferretpaw. And one is, don't be and idiot."

"My name's not Ferretpaw," Ferretpaw suddenly said. "I'm not a clan cat anymore. I'm Scorn."

Ferretpaw left, not waiting for Pardalis's reply. Thinking, he suddenly realized something about himself.

He had shed the last remaining part of being a clan cat, his name. He wasn't ThunderClan. He wasn't Ferretpaw.

He was Scorn, rogue. And one day, he'd be Scorn of BloodClan.

* * *

**A/N: You expected him to become BloodClan so easily? Hell no. Ferretpaw –or rather, Scorn- is not going to get everything handed to him on a golden platter. Did I mention I'm terrible at battle scenes?**


	10. Chapter 8

**A/N: I'm sorry for the long wait! But after all, it's October, aka school.**

**Disclaimer: Am I Kate Cary? No. Am I Cherith Baldry? No. Am I Victoria Holmes? No. So unless there's a fourth member of the Warriors team that is kept secret from the public, I think it's safe to say I don't own Warriors.**

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**Chapter 8**

* * *

"So you're back."

Scorn smiled. The look was almost pleasant, but for the fact the smile didn't reach his eyes. "Yes," he said. "I am."

Moons had passed since Scorn's –then Ferretpaw- first visit with Heat. During that time, Scorn had honed his skills, becoming stronger and cleverer, and made himself known as a rogue it could be dangerous to cross. Being alone made you grow up fast.

"And I hear you've changed your name as well," Heat said, lazily licking herself. "And got a little reputation."

"Yes, such as getting Spine captured by twolegs," Talon rumbled, eyes narrowed.

"He escaped eventually though," Scorn said innocently, eyes wide. "And got the jewel studded collar off only a few weeks after he escaped, too."

"Enough with the small talk," Heat said, standing up. "You didn't just come here to boast of what you've become, haven't you."

Scorn smiled, and this time it reached his eyes. If one had carefully monitored the rogue recently, they would have noticed it was his first true smile in moons.

"I've come, as you very well know," he hissed, heart beating quickly, his want and hopefulness almost able to be smelled, "to once again ask to join BloodClan."

Heat smirked. Scorn seethed; it irritated him that she held the one thing that he wanted, he needed, and that she very well knew it.

"Let's see," Heat said, while Scorn paced the den, skin taut with impatience. Though he tried not to do it so as not to see that smug grin of hers, he couldn't help it.

"What I could gain from you? Another loyal BloodClan warrior, one who is cunning and strong, and a good fighter and hunter."

A smile flashed on Scorn's face for a brief moment. She would definitely accept him. He was as good as BloodClan now.

"_But_," Heat hissed, looking him straight in the eye, eyes narrowing. Scorn stopped, and hung on to the 'but' like a piece of prey, waiting for Heat's next words.

"_But_, you got Spine captured by twolegs, have attacked BloodClan members who have annoyed you or insulted you-."

"As would have anyone else!" Scorn interrupted, an annoyed and indignant look on his face.

Talon looked at him sharply, and Heat continued talking, ignoring what Scorn had said. "-hunted near BloodClan, openly mocking us, and much more. In fact," Heat hissed, only inches away from Scorn's face, "who's to say you'd try to become leader?"

Scorn stiffened, and sucked in his breath.

"_You want power_," Heat rasped, hostility openly showing in her gaze, "You know it, and so do I. And bad things happen to those who are not good at getting it."

"I just want to be a member of BloodClan!" Scorn yowled, impatience reaching to its full peak. "Being in BloodClan itself is enough power!"

"You know it, and I know it," Heat said coldly, walking away and laying down again. "When you get rid of that craving, come back, and you will become BloodClan."

Scorn stared at Heat. How could she do this? He had done everything to make sure he could become BloodClan! He was cunning, he was strong, he was a good hunter and fighter. And still Heat refused.

Rage coursed through Scorn's veins. He would still try to become a member of BloodClan, but one day he'd get revenge on Heat, for what she did.

But for now, do what she wanted. Act like an obedient little kit, and prove he just wanted to be loyal.

"Fine."

------

"Pathetic. Heat still won't let you in, and for good reason. You're just a wannabe little clan cat who thinks they can be BloodClan. Don't you understand that kittypets like you should stay in their nests?"

Thee BloodClan tabby who had spoken smirked, but his skin was also taut, and he was ready for attack.

Every instinct told Scorn to leap at the cat, tear him limb from limb for his insults, show him who was boss, but Heat's words were always there, a soft whisper in the back of his head. He grit his teeth and dug his claws into the ground. At times, it seemed it was too much of a price to pay, even for BloodClan.

The tabby's eyes widened. Apparently he hadn't heard of what Scorn had been doing for the past days yet. It still ended up to the same thing though, which was a look of amusment on the BloodClan cat's face, inwardly laughing that Scorn wouldn't -couldn't- fight him.

A trash can't top clattered to the ground as the BloodClan cat jumped down from it. "There, kittypet," he said. "I'm making it easier for you."

Scorn said nothing, just breathed in and out slowly, eyes narrowed.

This cat didn't contain his laughter. "Too scared to fight, eh, kittypet? Of course. No nerve, no risk taking, just a little kittypet who'd rather be at home with some milk!" Still laughing, the tom padded away down the sidewalk. Scorn could almost sense the cat's contempt for him.

Scorn ground his teeth.

While the weeks passed, Scorn honed his hunting and fighting skills, but further in the city, on an almost deserted street where the BloodClan cats didn't go. He also practiced at disguising his intents, as he was sure they showed on his face. Scorn could tell Heat could easily tell a cat's emotions, their needs.

If Heat still saw he wanted any kind of power, what he did would be all for nothing.

And so it was weeks later, when Scorn had lost nearly all of his reputation, but had become much more clever, that for the third time he went to the most trash ridden place of the city, asking the guards for an audience with Heat.

Scorn was sure the guards were the only ones who were openly amused with him. They were always emotionless, voices flat.

One of the guards appeared back at the front of the tunnel. "Heat will see you."

As he passed the guard, Scorn sensed something. The guard seemed to be filled with a silent chuckling, and though there was no sound or smell to suggest it, Scorn was sure of it. Passing the other guard, Scorn could tell that this one didn't have that silent amusement, but a sort of respect…_respect?_ No one had ever respected him before, except for the fake respect Pardalis had given him. It felt rather intoxicating…

Was this what Heat could do? Sense emotions? Though everyone could, this seemed different, a talent for it. Looking back on his memories, Scorn wondered if all leaders had it. He was certain Firestar could. It had always felt as if he was reading his mind.

Thoughts about emotions and BloodClan swirled in Scorn's head as he walked down the familiar dank tunnel. The strung plants slid across his back as they always did, and like always, Heat was there on a bed of moss, looking lazy, but with calculating eyes and mind inside.

"We meet for the third time, Scorn."

Impatience filled Scorn; he rolled his eyes. Must Heat irritate him with her small talk every time he came?

"I see you are as impatient as ever," the BloodClan leader purred.

Scorn froze for a moment. If she had sensed his impatience, would she still see what he wanted? Or was it only that he had only practiced more with hiding that than everything else?

_It must be that,_ Scorn reassured himself, relaxing a bit.

Heat continued with the same question that she always did. "And what do you want?"

Scorn just managed not to run toward her and shout, "YOU KNOW WHAT I WANT AND WE BOTH KNOW THAT!"

"I want to join BloodClan," the rogue replied, a thin mask of calmness covering his annoyance.

Heat didn't respond, just stared at him, brow furrowed. Scorn could tell she was searching, searching for what he wanted, what he felt. The rogue firmly pushed the idea of power out of his mind, leaving only the power he would feel if he was BloodClan. He let hunting and fighting wander around in his mind, fighting against clan cats with fellow BloodClan members, wearing a teeth studded collar.

After what seemed like moons, Heat dropped her gaze. A slight smile tugged at her lips.

"Welcome," she said, "to BloodClan."

------

"and Scorn!"

Scorn beamed as his name was the last to be called out to go to the gathering. His first gathering as a BloodClan cat. Wouldn't ThunderClan be surprised.

During his short time as a BloodClan cat, Scorn had learned how to move without anyone seeing, lethal fighting moves, and ways to frighten and intimidate other cats. After all this, it seemed impossible that Firestar had defeated Scourge with a simple play dead move.

But best yet, he had gotten a collar. It only had a few teeth so far, but Scorn knew soon every space would be filled with cracked white and yellow. With that collar, everyone would know he was a powerful BloodClan cat.

The BloodClan cats left early for the gathering, since they lived so far away, they'd move quickly and silently, blending in with the landscape and bending not so much as a single blade of grass. The air was filled with a scent he hadn't smelled in a long time – that of the clans. Right now it was ThunderClan –they were in that territory, after all- and Scorn felt a slight pang of homesickness, which was quickly pushed to the back of his mind. BloodClan was everything that ThunderClan was, and more than it, too.

Eventually the cats crossed the log onto the island. They were the fourth to come. As Scorn and his clanmates entered the clearing, he could sense the wave of hostility that came from the other three clans, and could feel the anger directed at Heat especially. The clan acted as if everything was normal and settled down at the east edge of the clearing, while Heat bounded up to the tree branches and Talon by its roots.

Scorn was seated near the other clans. ShadowClan was mostly by him; he wrinkled his nose. ShadowClan scent seemed even more strong and pungent than it had been when he was a ThunderClan apprentice.

The BloodClan tom could see the ShadowClan tom who was near him had his skin taut. He was clearly uncomfortable. Scorn smiled; it seemed he wouldn't even need to try intimidating them.

Something about the tom was familiar though. Scorn stared at him, trying to figure out what it was. The tom was a dark brown tabby, and his amber eyes flashed good naturedly. A slight smell of herbs emanated from him. Wait…herbs…dark brown tabby…suddenly Scorn remembered a pebble, words with an echo to them, "And for a ShadowClanner to look like a ThunderClanner is baaaaaad."

It was Bramblepaw, the medicine cat apprentice!

Like any other cat who could tell someone was looking at them, abruptly, Bramblepaw turned around, fur bristling. "Listen, BloodClan-," he began, looking straight into his eyes. But the moment he looked at them, he stopped talking, and there was an odd look in his eye. "That…that ThunderClan apprentice I pranked…" Bramblepaw murmured, looking at Scorn closer.

"What are you talking about, ShadowClan?" Scorn spat, feigning unknowingness. Afraid of being recognized completely, Scorn moved farther east, among only fellow BloodClan cats.

After a few minutes ThunderClan came, and the gathering started, and the leaders told of their news. Like he had been at his very first gathering, Scorn was bored, and if he hadn't had the self control, he'd probably have been drooling, or sleeping, or both. Which most certainly wouldn't be a good impression on anyone, especially his own clan.

As soon as he heard Firestar's voice though, he perked up. What had been going on there without him?

"We have two new warriors," Firestar said, smiling. "Oakbranch and Creamflower."

Scorn's eyes widened. His siblings…

He looked toward Oakpaw –no,Oak_branch_- and was startled by how much he'd changed. He was stronger and as bigger–which was still larger than Scorn, and he looked happy and confident. An odd feeling churned in Scorn's stomach. He could have been announced too, maybe as Ferretfang or Ferretclaw, and bask in the attention. Shocked by this thought, Scorn shook his head. He wasn't ThunderClan anymore, nor Ferret-anything. He was Scorn of BloodClan, and he would probably be announced as a warrior of it too.

Firestar's announcements were short and as boring as the other clans', but Scorn listened to them all the same. Finally Firestar breathed out, and it seemed he was done. But suddenly he began speaking again. "The apprentice Ferretpaw is still missing," he said sadly. The leader's face suddenly looked older and more haggard. "If anyone has seen him, please alert one of ThunderClan, as we would dearly like him back."

After a second of shock, Scorn willed himself to chuckle quietly. It soon came freely, and he could see Heat had that look on her face, that one of inward amusement. For a brief moment Scorn's eyes were just the slightest bit watery, but then without any action from him, it seemed the tears had receded, and while he laughed a bit more, nothing bothered him.

Finally it was Heat's turn. Scorn saw all the other clans' fur bristle and eyes narrow. Heat acted as if she didn't see it, and started speaking a proud look on her face.

"BloodClan is thriving," she mewed. Somehow the way she said it seemed to suggest to Scorn they were living the best and everyone else was inferior. It seemed the other clans felt this too, and faint growls and hisses sounded throughout the clearing.

"We are very strong," she continued. Once again Scorn caught a veiled meaning, like Heat was really saying "We are strong enough to attack…" This time it wasn't caught by the clans. "We have also had a new warrior added to our ranks."

Scorn smiled, then frowned. Whispers like, "Who would want to join them?" or "The poor cat was probably forced to!" rode on the breeze, but were very quiet, only able to be heard by those with very good hearing.

The new BloodClan warrior was positive Heat could hear them; he could just see Heat making a sound, probably a snort of amusement.

"We welcome Scorn to our clan," she finished.

On impulse, Scorn rose up on his hind legs and yowled, causing all the cats to look at him. He sat back down before any ThunderClan cat could recognize him, and smiled coldly, making the other clan cats by him shudder.

Heat smiled down at him, as if giving her approval. "This gathering is officially over!" she yowled, and leapt down from her branch, Talon and then Scorn and his clanmates following.

Three ThunderClan warriors stared at them as they left. Scorn had perhaps spent too much time in the air, and maybe he shouldn't have wanted the attention.

Three saw, three recognized.

And at three different times, very quietly, very faintly, they whispered one word: "Ferretpaw."

* * *

**A/N: So ends this chapter. Heh, Scorn finally got into BloodClan on his third try, not his second. XD Maybe I'm trying to make it too hard –aka realistic- for him..**

**Constructive criticism always appreciated!**


	11. Chapter 9

**A/N: Actually nothing much to say for once…wow.**

**Disclaimer: If I was really one of them, why am I rabidly waiting for Dark River to come out right now?**

* * *

**Chapter 9**

* * *

"You're all positive it was him?"

"Yes," Mousepatch said, nodding to Firestar.

"He's my brother," Oakbranch said. "Creamflower was too excited too notice, but I did. I was the one was always with him, too."

"It couldn't have been anyone else," Specklewing muttered. "He's still arrogant, still thinks he's the best, still thinks he deserves the best."

Firestar looked at Specklewing, a calm, penetrating look, who instantly averted her eyes. Firestar's looks were never angry, but the ThunderClan cats could always tell when they had said something wrong.

"And – and he always was ambitious, so eager to fight," Oakbranch stammered out as if he shouldn't have said so. "But it's still so odd…he isn't even Ferretpaw anymore…he's…what was it?"

"Scorn," Mousepatch whispered. Then even quieter, he said, "Because he's in scorn of what he left…you, his family…" Suddenly the warrior stopped, looking at the ground, giving in to the mournful silence.

The four cats in Firestar's den said nothing for a few moments, submitting to the uneasy quietness.

Finally, Mousepatch rasped, "…me." He sighed, one so sad and heavy it caused the other three cats to sigh, too.

Awkwardly, Oakbranch asked, "So what are we going to do, Firestar?"

Firestar grimaced, and the silence came back again in full force. Oakbranch stared at his leader, eyes wide with question, Specklewing and Mousepatch's waiting faces backing him up.

The answer then came, so quiet it was a wonder it managed to reach the three cats' ears.

"I don't know."

Oakbranch blinked, then his mouth tightened, trying not to let a word escape. He succeeded for a few seconds, but finally gave up, as a yowl of surprise flew from his mouth.

"_What?!_ You don't know?! HOW? You rescued the clans from BloodClan, exposed Tigerstar, helped RiverClan and WindClan, and saved SkyClan, but you can't rescue a cat – _my brother! _– from BloodClan? MY BROTHER!!! My own brother, Firestar! I…I…" Oakbranch's protests disappeared, forming into chokes, and he let out a huge sob, and started to cry.

Specklewing looked at Firestar and Mousepatch, who were rather uncomfortable with the situation. Seeing that no one was going to comfort him, she slowly moved toward Oakbranch, and started to stroke him with her tail haltingly, feeling embarrassed.

When Oakbranch's sobs were reduced to the occasional sniffle, Firestar spoke again.

"I'm sorry I can't do anything," he said, voice even, as if the crying before had never happened, "but this was Ferretpaw's –."

A voice that seemed to have a sigh permanently trapped in it interrupted. "Not Ferretpaw, Scorn," Mousepatch said, whiskers drooped.

"-Yes, _Scorn's_ choice. He – he wanted to join BloodClan, apparently, from the looks of when he was announced at the gathering, and we can't do anything about it."

"It's – it's not fair," Oakbranch said, voice choked. He squinted, and it was obvious he was trying to hide the fact that his eyes were watery.

Firestar dutifully ignored it. "Yes," he responded, voice heavy with sadness, "It's not fair."

------

A faint sliver of a moon dimly lit the sky, just barely letting the forest able to be viewed. Silverpelt was dim, as if telling him not to do it, that this was something he couldn't hope to succeed in. There were no small breezes flowing to cool the unusually warm night, and the sweat on his fur was free to rest, the damp of it making him uncomfortable and fidgety, adding to his nerves.

_I've got to do this,_ Oakbranch thought. _It'll only take a little persuasion for Sc – no, _Ferretpaw,_to become ThunderClan again. Then everything will be fine, and Ferretpaw will be back, and a warrior!_

Oakbranch looked up at Silverpelt, as if waiting for verification. A "Yes, what you're doing is right." But the forest stayed silent, like StarClan was disapproving.

"What I'm doing is good, right?" the warrior gazed up at the night sky, at Silverpelt, at the small sliver of a moon.

Cold silence.

_Maybe they're testing me,_ Oakbranch thought, attempting to convince himself._ StarClan wants to see if I can do this without their help, their reassurance._

After all, he was pretty sure he knew where BloodClan was. He had asked Creamflower all about the night of that gathering when Ferretpaw disappeared, so long ago.

"Well, I do remember something…the smell. It was like a great big garlic plant had been dumped upon the forest, and the plant was taken away, leaving only the smell, except for that there were some places where it was really strong. And I think Ferretpaw-." Here Creamflower had swallowed at the thought of her lost brother, then continued. "-and I think Ferretpaw was going in the direction of the strongest smell of it, now that I think about it. But that's all I can recall…" then Creamflower had walked off to unsuccessfully flirt with Birchfall.

But days after the gathering, there was almost no scent of garlic at all, which Oakbranch had deduced to be something BloodClan were disguising themselves under. Just a faint memory, laughing at his attempts to track BloodClan down with it. But he was doing better than most cats would. Oakbranch had been considered one of the all-around best apprentices, with good fighting and hunting skills and a strong sense of smell.

Oakbranch had traveled up to the abandoned Twoleg nest, taking in a deep sniff, when he scented something.

It was very stale, so stale that it could have been a dream, and only the strongest smellers could scent it. It was going to be fully gone soon, and Oakbranch at first didn't know what it was. Then it all came rushing back to him like a long forgotten memory, and he knew what it was.

Ferretpaw's scent.

Oakbranch briefly let his mind settle back into his kithood days – back when Ferretpaw was just another ambitious little kit, and they would play and wrestle together, and they'd always be covered with each other's scent. Then the present came back and he was Oakbranch, warrior, standing by a Twoleg nest in the middle of a cat's stale scent in the middle of a night.

Standing there, the damp grass tickling his paws, Oakbranch realized what he was doing. This was the path that Ferretpaw had taken to join BloodClan. Oakbranch could picture it in his mind: a wiry, dark brown tom with a white chest striding purposefully, nose in the air sniffing for garlic, a confident smile on his face.

A dark brown tabby, who, after moons, became…became…

"Scorn," Oakbranch muttered. "Scorn of BloodClan."

The warrior stood there among Ferretpaw's scent from long ago, pondering, while a lone cricket chirped, the only sound beside the occasional rustle in the underbrush or the treetops, and the small creak of the old Twoleg nest. It could have almost been any other night, except for that tomorrow another cat would be back in ThunderClan.

It took Oakbranch a while to remember what he was there for. Images of Ferretpaw – with a warrior name – back in ThunderClan cavorted in his mind, along with the cat he currently was now, sleeping in Twolegplace with all the other BloodClanners. He shuddered at the thought of his brother there, and continued walking down the path Ferretpaw had made so many moons ago.

------

The dusky red sun, newly risen, bathed ThunderClan camp through the brambles and the other plants in a faint, warm light. With it one cat had risen, early enough to be up before the other cats and before the dawn patrol could be arranged. After a long, restless night, at dawn Specklewing felt she couldn't be able to stay in the warriors den lying still anymore without screaming, and set out to find another cat who was up.

Last night's meeting with Firestar was still on her mind, and she felt she had to talk about it, and Scorn, too.

_Oakbranch,_ she thought.

She padded down the den, careful not to step on any of the sleeping bodies, looking for the brown tabby warrior, also sniffing the air for his scent.

Mousepatch's scent was there, her parents', Cloudtail and Brightheart and her older sister's, Whitewing, were too. She could smell every cat in there, from Squirrelflight to Birchfall, but couldn't scent Oakbranch. Just to make sure, she looked behind the plants, but there wasn't one cat there.

The she-cat groaned and sat down. Where had he gone? She replayed the previous night in her mind, up to her embarrassingly stroking him, until he had stopped crying. What had happened after that? Talking about Scorn's choice, Mousepatch's whiskers drooping…

A choked voice, eyes watery again… _"It's not fair…"_

StarClan. Oakbranch, the little mousebrain.

Specklewing tore out of the warriors den, accidentally stepping on a few cats on the way, who only had time to blink and glare at the cat running past them, them dropping back on the ground, eyes closing. She raced up to the place where the ThunderClan cats gathered for an announcement, and jumped onto the Highledge.

"Firestar!"

------

The change was gradual. The green grass started getting sparser and sparser, with a rough gray ground replacing it, until there was only one blade of grass poking up here and there. First there were small twoleg nests, like those Oakbranch had been told of had been by the ThunderClan territory in the old forest. They started getting bigger and sleeker, and shiny, the bright sun glinting off of them.

And StarClan, the noise! There were all kinds of noises, animal to Twolegs – screams, laughs, hisses, mews, barks, and buzzing. There were also noises coming from Twoleg monsters in the distance. Oakbranch shivered at the thought of so many.

This was where Ferretpaw was living.

Oakbranch shook his head in dismay. He couldn't believe that cat was really Ferretpaw, that it wasn't an impostor.

Suddenly he yawned. The warrior hadn't rested once while tracking down the garlic, and he had had no sleep. Trying not to walk too hard on the rough gray ground, Oakbranch wandered over to a nearby, shady corner, blinking groggily.

"But I shouldn't go to sleep," Oakbranch murmured to himself, eyes half closed. "I need to find Ferretpaw. I need to bring him baaaa…" He didn't have a chance to finish the last word of his sentence, as he collapsed rather painfully onto the ground, eyes closing in relief as he lay down.

The dozing ThunderClan warrior made a peaceful picture among the hustle and bustle of the Twolegplace, and he let out a soft snore.

That was what they had been waiting for. Among the shadows given by the Twoleg nests, between each one where the garbage was, several eyes blinked open, glowing orbs among the darkness. Six cats with teeth embedded collars padded out into the sunlight, crowding around the sleeping cat.

"It is ThunderClan, right?" one hissed.

"Mousebrain," another snarled back. "Can't you smell? Of course it is. C'mon, let's take him."

The other five cats slowly lifted the still sleeping Oakbranch on their backs. It was unfortunate that the tabby was such a heavy sleeper. The sixth cat, who was evidently the leader, watched them with a smile on his face, slitted eyes showing satisfaction.

Of course Oakbranch knew nothing about the common rules animals kept for safety in the city. He had just disobeyed the first one. And that one was: Never fall asleep in the open, because there's always an enemy waiting for it to happen.

BloodClan was usually that enemy.

------

"He _what?_"

Leaders couldn't always keep their calm mask on. Such was the case now.

Specklewing looked down at the ground, eyes narrowed. "Yes," she said, pawing at the ground with harsh, immediate blows. "He's gone to wherever BloodClan is to find Scorn and bring him back. I'm sure of it."

Quickly Firestar regained his mask after hearing what Specklewing said. "You're sure of it," he parroted her words. "Do you have any proof?"

"His own words," Specklewing said bitterly. "'It's not fair.' Refusing to call Scorn by his name, instead saying Ferretpaw. It's obvious. I bet if we went out of camp we could smell his trail. He was probably too anxious to have his brother back to cover up his scent."

"You do have a point," Firestar said.

"Well, then let's go and get Oakbranch _now_ before he's attacked by BloodClan cats or something!"

Firestar tilted his head, a pensive look on his face. "Ordinarily I'd take maybe four or five warriors on something like this," he said. "I think BloodClan is far away, since we only smell their scent at the gatherings. But I can't let the rest of the clan know, so I guess you, me, and Mousepatch would have to do." A satisfied look crossed his face for a second, then he frowned. "Brambleclaw would want to know what's so important that I need to go away for," he muttered, waving his tail rather nervously on the ground, "and I can't say the Moonpool, because of you and Mousepatch…" he broke off and tilted his head again, looking up at the top of his den.

Specklewing paced Firestar's den, waiting for an answer.

Suddenly Firestar brightened. "You and Mousepatch will be on a long hunting trip, and I am going to the Moonpool without Leafpool. Brambleclaw will be too busy with the dawn patrol and other such business to ask why I'm going."

Specklewing smiled. Finally something was going to be done. She rushed out of Firestar's den and down the Highledge, racing past Brambleclaw so there wouldn't be a chance of her going on the dawn patrol, and going over to the freshkill pile, where, as she thought, lay Mousepatch, eating a piece of prey and chatting with his sister, Hazelheart.

She tugged the scruff of his neck.

Mousepatch turned around, annoyed as he swallowed the last of his prey. "I'm talking to someone, you kn-," he said, breaking off when he saw it was Specklewing.

"We're going on a long hunting trip. _Now,"_ she hissed in his ear.

"What? I'm not going on a hunting trip…" he replied, narrowing his eyes in confusion. Specklewing narrowed her eyes. They gave out a message like, "_Yes, you are. Don't argue."_

Mousepatch's observant eyes caught the meaning and said hastily, "Oh, yes, yes I am. I forgot." He turned back to Hazelheart, who looked annoyed. "I'm sorry, Hazelheart," he told her. "I forgot I was planning to go on a long hunting mission with Specklewing. I'll be back later."

Still a bit irritated, his sister nodded and he turned to Specklewing, whispering, "What are you doing?"

"Oakbranch," she said grimly. "He seems to think that if he takes Scorn, or rather Ferretpaw, as he insists to call him, back to ThunderClan, he won't like BloodClan anymore and everything will be all right."

Mousepatch, who was still rather tired, asked, "What does the pretext of a hunting trip have to do with it?"

Specklewing rolled her eyes. "We have to go and get him before he's mauled by BloodClanners."

Mousepatch winced at the image, then remembered that Specklewing always was rather morbid. "Is Firestar going with us?"

"He's going to the Moonpool. Like we're going on a long hunting trip."

"…wha – Oh…" Mousepatch nodded. "Well, then let's go."

The two ThunderClan warriors padded out of the camp and into the forest. Instantly, Mousepatch caught a whiff of Oakbranch's scent.

"Yes, we're lucky Oakbranch was in too much of a hurry to cover up his scent," A voice came from behind the trees a few mouse-lengths ahead. Firestar stepped out from behind the weathered trunks, and sniffed the air, the familiar tilt to his head which showed he was thinking. "I've heard that scent increases when one is very desperate," he said. "I can certainly sense the desperation in Oakbranch's scent, and there's a lot of it, too. It's amazing how much want can cloud one's mind."

Mousepatch and Specklewing both nodded slowly, wondering why Firestar was choosing to comment on it.

"Well," Specklewing said abruptly, "We should be going now. And cover up our scent, too," she added as an afterthought.

The three ThunderClan cats began their way to the giant Twoleg-nest, where Oakbranch was surely lost.

------

The group of BloodClan cats finally arrived at the entrance to Heat's den.

"Reason?" hissed one of the guards.

"We're back with the ThunderClan," the leader of the group growled, flicking one ear to motion toward the – amazingly – still sleeping brown tabby the other cats were carrying.

The other guard nodded and moved back, disappearing into the darkness. Seconds later he came back, saying, "You are wanted by Heat. Enter."

The BloodClan cats tried to gently heave the ThunderClan cat back on the ground, failing. For a second, one eye flitted open. "Huh?" the cat began. "Where am-." The leader quickly silenced him with a rough swat of the paw, seeming to knock him unconscious, or back to sleep, at least.

The cats pushed him down the tunnel and through the hanging plants, where Heat waited for them, eyes glimmering with interest.

"We are back from our mission, Heat," the group leader growled, dipping his head.

Heat's amber eyes glinted. "Good," she mewed. "For once you succeed." She looked pointedly at a particularly large scar of his running across his face, a punishment from failing a particularly important mission.

She padded toward the ThunderClan cat, sniffing him. "It is the one I wanted," she verified. "We will be expecting a few ThunderClan soon."

How did you know all of this, Heat?" one cat questioned, looking up at her in admiration.

"I have my ways," she responded discreetly. "It pays to keep a close watch on your enemies."

Suddenly turning to the side, she said, "Talon, take a dozen BloodClan. They don't have to be too good. I'm guessing will only have four or five ThunderClanners."

"As you wish," he rumbled, in his usual spot, invisible among the shadows.

Heat's eyes glinted with satisfaction. "I suspect a couple ThunderClanners will be badly hurt tonight," she said, smiling. "I know Firestar isn't as mousebrained as he looks. It's a pity he wasn't paying attention to what I was really saying at the last gathering."

The group of BloodClanners grimaced. Any enemy of Heat's who didn't catch what she was really saying didn't stay an enemy for long.

* * *

**A/N: And so Chapter 9 ends. I'm sorry for no Scorn POV and all the POV switching, but I can't do Scorn all the time. Hope you still enjoyed it, though.**

**Anyway, Happy Halloween!**


	12. Chapter 10

**A/N: Um. Yes. It's been a long time. I had many details worked out for this chapter, but I didn't write them down so I forgot them over the course of NaNo. Thus, this is probably not how I originally planned the chapter. On another note, I think you will probably be getting longer chapters in this fic now, because doing NaNo basically taught me how to do longer chapters – not too long, but longer than my way too short previous chapters.**

**Oh – and yay, I read Dark River! The Erins didn't mean it, but they made a new pairing – Jaypaw x Stick. xDD Funniest part in the book.**

**Disclaimer: Would the word no answer your question?**

**Chapter 10**

* * *

Firestar was, to put it simply, a great leader. Though once a kittypet, he had proved his worth, becoming a great fighter and hunter and a brave, kind warrior, with which almost any benevolent adjective could be described. He had uncovered Tigerstar's wicked plottings, dealt with Bluestar when she was insane, defeated Scourge and BloodClan, and remade the lost Clan of SkyClan. According to other cats, he had done all these deeds and more with the utmost confidence and skill, each defeat an easy one; child's play. Firestar had accomplished enough to be passed down as a legend for countless moons to come.

Obviously, this was not in the least true. Like any other cat, Firestar approached battles not with unlimited confidence, but with trepidation and nervousness. He himself believed many of his early victories could be dismissed as nothing but luck, and day after day he had always felt that because of this, he was nothing but a liar, a fraud; he sometimes felt as if he had let down the Clans. He especially felt this way with BloodClan; it seemed to him the only way the Clans had gotten a victory over them was because StarClan had been on their side. That, and Scourge had never heard of the play dead move, or was too confident he would be the victor in the battle to even think of the possibility or prepare himself for it.

This always troubled Firestar. He knew that despite his many flaws, Scourge had been a brilliant, genius leader, using his cats to his full advantage and succeeding in this also – that took skill and leadership. Firestar doubted one could preside over BloodClan in any way if they didn't have these distinct qualities.

So as soon as BloodClan had made its comeback with their leader Heat, and started making a regular appearance at Gatherings, the acclaimed ThunderClan leader knew it was definitely time to worry. Discovering Talon was Scourge's grandson and Heat his own long lost granddaughter did not help any either – it just made Firestar worry (and know) that surely Talon must have inherited Scourge's power and cunning, and Heat the same qualities plus good leadership from her two grandfathers, Tigerstar and Firestar. The leader wouldn't be surprised if Tigerstar was looking down at her from some StarClan forsaken place, smirking in his smug way every time she obtained a victory, however small.

So it was that on the way to the giant Twolegplace, with Mousepatch and Specklewing, to retrieve Oakbranch; where BloodClan obviously lived, such strong worries were troubling Firestar, no matter how optimistic and confident his outlook seemed to be to his young companions and Clan cats. After Scourge's death by his paws, the play dead move would have been memorized by every BloodClan member, probably to go so far as to have kits learn it as soon as they could take in such information. Firestar doubted Heat's fighting training had been deprived much.

Mousepatch sniffed the air deeply, nose wrinkling. "Firestar, I smell something odd – the makings of Twolegs!" he meowed, jolting Firestar out of his thoughts.

Firestar nodded. "That certainly means we're close to the big Twolegplace. Now, when we get there, you'll surely be surprised. Twolegplaces such as this one are huge and noisy, with raucous screams and yells coming from every cat – and Twoleg – possible, and from monsters, too. There are many more things there than you can imagine, most of it belonging to Twolegs. It is an ugly place, far different from any place on the Clans' territory."

Mousepatch and Specklewing both nodded. Specklewing screwed up her nose and looked up at the pale blue sky as she attempted to imagine what Firestar had informed her and Mousepatch of; Firestar observed she had failed, judging from the slight, annoyed frown on her face moments later.

A few minutes later, Specklewing cried, "Look! There are tall Twoleg nests in the distance. But…but tall, _really_ tall!" She motioned with her tail up toward the sky; Mousepatch followed it and gazed in awe at the tall spires and reflecting square Twoleg nests in the distance. They seemed to touch the clouds – maybe they could even touch the stars!

Firestar nodded calmly, glancing at the gigantic Twoleg nests. "This is what you should prepare yourself for," he suggested. "There are many more of these in the Twolegplace which can't be seen from here, and many shorter and smaller (yet still huge to us) Twoleg nests."

Only a small twitch of the tail (from Specklewing) and a slight flick of the ears (Mousepatch) indicated that the two young ThunderClan warriors had heard what Firestar had said, so involved they were in the awe inspiring Twoleg nests. Their mouths hung open, slack jawed, and their eyes stretched wide.

Firestar gave each of them a light tap on the back with his tail. "You'd better stop staring at those Twoleg nests," he informed them, starting to walk again. "We still have a ways to go until we get to the Twolegplace – and then we have to find Oakbranch and avoid BloodClan, too."

A deep frown crossed Specklewing's face from the mention of Oakbranch, all but forgotten while she had ogled the Twoleg nests. "Yes, I suppose so," she muttered, catching up to Firestar's steady pace. "Come on, Mousepatch!" she called. Abruptly, Mousepatch jumped up from his fixed position – perfect for watching tall Twoleg nests up in the sky – and ran up to the other two ThunderClanners, still giving the occasional glance of disbelief and awe upwards.

-------

His eyes snapped open and darkness flooded his sight, only marginally lighter than the darkness of his eyes closed had been. He could dimly make out a pair of glowing amber eyes, gleaming with satisfaction. Father off, the tom could see a set of eyes that were a brilliant icy blue, their gaze fixed on him and him only; no one else. It rather unnerved him, that gaze; it also reminded the tom of another icy blue gaze that had been spoken of in tales…and what cat did _those_ icy blue eyes belong to? They belonged to Scourge! And didn't that other cat, his descendant, inherit those same icy blue eyes? T – T – Talon! Yes, Talon! The BloodClan leader, Heat's advisor, Talon! Wait – didn't Heat have amber eyes? Eyes widened, the tom's gaze flickered back to the set of amber eyes – they still gleamed with satisfaction, but the tom was sure he could also catch some other sort of emotion in those eyes – malevolence? The cat stared into the eyes harder – yes, definitely ill intent of some kind. Those eyes sent shivers down his spine, just by looking at him – well, it was Heat, leader of BloodClan, after all…that sort of effect was bound to happen.

Suddenly, it kicked in what he had just said. He had seen the eyes of Heat and Talon. He definitely was _not_ in the midst of a dream. Which meant…

"I'm a true mousebrain," Oakbranch muttered to himself, letting out a deep breath. "And I've bungled up my mission good and truly now."

------

"…This might not be so easy as I thought it would."

Specklewing's words summed up what all the three, excluding Firestar, thought, as they took their first step inside the huge Twolegplace. Huge or any other synonym – big, gigantic, giant, enormous, tremendous, large – were the only words a cat could come up with to describe the Twolegplace the first time they saw it, unless that cat had grown up in the Twolegplace and made it its home.

With such a place as huge as the Twolegplace, it certainly would be no easy task to locate Oakbranch and bring him back home to ThunderClan territory. Hindering the three ThunderClanners' mission even more was the _noise_ of the place. Just as Oakbranch had thought when he encountered the Twolegplace, and Scorn, moons ago when he was still Ferretpaw, the sounds alone positively overwhelmed them. Every sound imaginable could be found there – name a sound and soon you'd hear it, and it would be certain that after one left the Twolegplace, they'd leave knowing many more sounds than they had entering it.

Specklewing tentatively sniffed the air, obviously hoping to catch a whiff of Oakbranch's scent – but the effort was useless; what with all the other animals and Twolegs and objects around, millions and millions of them, trying to scent one cat that probably wasn't even in or near the vicinity could be confirmed as nothing but an impossible task.

Mousepatch shook his head ruefully, sighing. "Finding Oakbranch amid all of…all of _this_ will take _moons_, with how gigantic this Twolegplace – how many Twolegs are here? Just here are more than I've ever seen in my life…"

Firstar shook his head, appearing calm as always like a good leader should. "You're exaggerating all this, Mousepatch," he said, looking around. "I doubt Oakbranch got far, maybe a little farther in than we are right now. What I'm more concerned about is BloodClan all around us – most of these cats probably aren't simple kittypets."

Mousepatch screwed up his nose. "True," he admitted. "But even if Oakbranch isn't that far in, just in the middle of this endless Twolegplace, the threat of BloodClan just makes this mission so much harder…and so much more dangerous. If only BloodClan hadn't made its comeback…if only."

"You mean, if only Squirrelflight hadn't given birth to Heat," Specklewing pointed out in her usually blunt way.

"Er, yeah, I guess I meant that." Mousepatch muttered.

Specklewing shrugged. "You're not the only one who thinks it odd to find out what they really meant to say."

Firestar stepped in between the two ThunderClanners, setting a brisk pace. "C'mon, we can't spend our time chattering like chipmunks; we need to find Oakbranch and bring him back to ThunderClan territory."

Mousepatch and Specklewing closed their mouths and ran after Firestar, slowing to his pace.

Three cats, one a brilliant fiery ginger, one gray and white, and one white with a ginger foot, muzzle, and tip of tail, making their way unobtrusively among the huge Twolegplace, thinking they were going unnoticed.

Yet slit eyes watched their every move, waiting for the right moment to spring their attack – hopefully an attack that would leave a particularly strong imprint on the three pathetic ThunderClanners.

------

"Why am I here?" Oakbranch hissed, eyes narrowing at Heat's amused amber ones.

Heat's amber eyes flashed. "Why do you think? You are a part of my plans. That much should be obvious."

"Why? What use am I? All I'm trying to do is…" Oakbranch's sight blurred as he thought of his plan, his mission to bring back – to rescue – Sc – Ferretpaw. A mission that he knew inside would inevitable fail, despite what he kept on reassuring himself.

Heat snorted, rolling her eyes. "You think I'll tell you? I didn't become leader of BloodClan by being some mousebrain who tells her every enemy the plans she's made for them." Her eyes darkened as she pointedly sniffed Oakbranch's scent deeply as she said, "Unlike some Clans, one has to have actual _skill_ to be a leader here in BloodClan."

Oakbranch flinched. "Don't insult Firestar!" he hissed, glaring at Heat. "You're just jealous, because you know he's a much better leader than you'll ever be!"

The leader of BloodClan laughed, her smile showing complete contempt for Oakbranch's words. "Jealous? How could I ever be jealous?" Heat laughed again, throwing back her head. "Indeed, the best thing I ever did was crawl out of the ThunderClan nursery as a kit, blind to what I was doing – with Talon then finding me. I consider myself forever in debt to him for what he did – yes, of _course_ that shows I'm jealous of the leader of ThunderClan." Heat curled her lip.

"Firestar's your grandfather!" Oakbranch cried. "How can you simply despise him? He's much better than your advisor, Talon, and every mangy warrior in BloodClan!" Oakbranch immediately flinched as he realized fully what he said – did he really think his own brother Ferretpaw was a mangy warrior of BloodClan, the lowest of the low?

Heat sneered, curling her lip again. "Shared blood means nothing," she said. "It's not like something horrible will happen if I kill him, not like I'll feel any other extra pain because he is a family member. I think soon you'll understand that quite clearly."

Eyes widening, Oakbranch stared at Heat. Was she so far gone, so evil she couldn't even care about someone she shared blood with, someone who was the father of her own mother? He shivered.

"And before you ask," Heat said abruptly, breaking the silence that had only just begun to descend upon them, "That doesn't mean I'm far gone, it doesn't mean I've got the mind of a squirrel, and it doesn't mean I'm evil and wicked to the extreme – it means that unlike many other cats, I'm _sensible_, I understand how leaders should _really_ act like, and that such sentimental stuff only weakens me – and I need to stay powerful."

Oakbranch blinked. What Heat was saying sounded so strange, so odd that he half expected for her to suddenly blurt out, "Just kidding!"

Before Oakbranch could even open his mouth to say something in response, Heat cut in and said, "And _no_, I am _not_ going to suddenly exclaim I was kidding – that's not how this works, Oakbranch."

Oakbranch's jaw fell open as he gaped at Heat. Had – had she just read his mind, or something? And now that he noticed it, she had done something like that before – he had thought her far gone, and she said that before he'd ask, she was not far gone. Heat was even more of a force to be reckoned with than Oakbranch had thought – if she could read minds…not even Firestar could do that – or at least, he had showed no evidence of it.

"It's not reading minds!" Heat snapped, tail flicking up and waving agitatedly. "How many times do I have to tell cats – even BloodClanners – that? It's called interpreting one's facial features and body movements – not as if any pathetic ThunderClanner could master that skill, though."

Wrinkling his nose, Oakbranch glared at Heat, eyes narrowed. She just had to make her every word to him an insult to ThunderClanners, didn't she? Though something about it _was_ rather good – besides insulting him, she was also giving away valuable information about herself and her motives. Firestar would do well to hear this. A small grin settled inconspicuously on Oakbranch's face as he turned his face away from Heat – with her powers, she would understand as soon as she spotted his expression why he was grinning.

"You _are_ a particularly foolish ThunderClanner, aren't you?" Heat remarked, opening her jaws in an elegant yawn. "Much more mousebrained than the rest of your Clan, and that's saying something, considering what ThunderClan is like. Do you _really_ think I'd say this information knowing you might escape here? I think not." A hollow laugh filled the room, coming from Heat, making an involuntary shiver run up Oakbranch's spine.

Oakbranch shivered as Heat's ominous words echoed in his head. Would he really ever come out of Heat's cave alive?

"By the end of the day, you'll know." That was Heat speaking again, using that eerie mind reading – or interpreting facial features and body movements, according to the BloodClan leader. "But if you're too impatient, then I suppose you'll discover the answer pretty soon." Heat smiled, the expression ill fitted with the thinly veiled threat that had just come out of her mouth.

The ThunderClan tomcat shuddered. "Yes, I suppose I will."

-------

"I can scent him!" A yowl of triumph erupted from Mousepatch's mouth as his head darted up into the air in surprise, a look of glee on his face.

Specklewing took a tentative sniff at the air, then scowled, glaring at Mousepatch. "Stop taunting us, Mousepatch."

The gleeful expression instantly fell of Mousepatch's face, replaced by a hurt and indignant one. "I'm not taunting you!" he cried. "I really scented Oakbranch – just barely, but I _did_!"

The she-cat snorted. "Yes, and I just smelled a random blade of grass deep in the middle of this StarClan forsaken giant Twolegplace. Be serious, Mousepatch."

Lips curling in a silent snarl, Mousepatch shot Specklewing a glare and muttered mutinously, "But I _did_ catch Oakbranch's scent, I know I did! It was just a tiny whiff, barely there, but it was definitely there." So overcome by his annoyance and anger with Specklewing's disbelief, Mousepatch suddenly whirled around at her and yowled, "Why don't _you_ try getting a whiff of Oakbranch, and actually try while doing it, instead of sniffing ever so lightly and disbelieving what I claim – which is true!"

Rolling her eyes, Specklewing hissed, "Fine," and stretched her head up into the air, taking in a deep sniff. A small frown crept over her face, showing her failure in scenting Oakbranch. Several more big sniffs followed, each succeeded by an annoyed expression. Finally, Specklewing hissed, "Why don't you just stop lying – I know you are!"

Tail whipping around in the air, Mousepatch hissed, "Why _would_ I lie? I want to find Oakbranch as much as you and Firestar do!"

Specklewing's unsheathed claws made ear shattering noises as she scraped the hard, gray ground of the Twolegplace. Hissing, then snarling, a silent challenge was sent to Mousepatch. As the two started to hiss and snarl, circling each other and looking for the best place to attack, Firestar stepped in between the two young ThunderClanners. "Stop!" he mewed in a firm voice, tail lightly hitting both Specklewing's and Mousepatch's backs.

Claws sheathing reluctantly, Mousepatch and Specklewing stepped a pace back from each other, challenging expressions still on their faces.

"This is not a time for fighting," Firestar meowed, no trace of annoyance – though there must have been some – on his face. "We are supposed to be on a mission to find a ThunderClanner disillusioned, so sad he is for the loss of his brother, not a time for petty battles."

The two cats nodded, eyes shifting. Such lectures from Firestar made those he was lecturing always prone to some kind of shame.

"Anyway," Firestar continued, "I believe Mousepatch may have caught a whiff of Oakbranch's scent. After all, he is one of the best hunters in the Clan, which means one thing he must have is a very good sense of smell."

Specklewing bit her lip. "I never thought of that…" she mewed, looking away from Mousepatch guiltily. Looking back to him, she opened her mouth to give him an apology.

But Mousepatch wasn't paying attention to any attempted apology. Eyes bright and nose sniffing rapidly, he ran farther and farther down the hard gray Twolegplace path. Seeing Specklewing's confused look he turned his head around and cried as he ran, "I've found Oakbranch's scent again, and it's stronger now, too! Follow me!" Not saying a word, Firestar and Specklewing glanced at each other for a brief moment, then ran after Mousepatch, paws skimming the ground in a whirr.

The three cats ran and ran through the Twolegplace, bumping into other cats and running past without calling an apology, and skidding through the legs of slow, lumbering Twolegs, dodging the eager hands of Twoleg kits. Finally, Mousepatch skidded to a stop near the end of one of the Twoleg paths, an area where a cloud of stink had settled, its source an alley that could be entered by turning right at the end of the Twoleg path.

"Why have you stopped here?" Firestar asked, observing his surroundings and wrinkling his nose from the rotten smell that was lingering by them.

"Oakbranch's scent is really strong here," Mousepatch said slowly, as if getting each word out was a task in itself.

"So why did you stop?" Specklewing said. "Oakbranch is probably just around the corner. And probably having a good doze," she added, rolling her eyes.

"It's just…" Mousepatch hesitated. "Something…something just doesn't feel right – and it's not only because of that terrible foxdung-like stink, it's something else. Like – like danger…" the young tom trailed off, faintly shivering.

Behind bits of trash, walls, and other such stuff, a large tom surveyed the three ThunderClanners, eyes cold. "If we wait any longer they'll stumble upon Heat," he hissed to the other various cats surrounding him. "You heard that ThunderClanner. Let's go – attack!" The last word morphed into a snarl at the end, as the BloodClanners leaped from their cover and silently stalked the unsuspecting ThunderClanners, who, unused to so many scents from so many different things and overwhelmed by the stink nearby, had not even caught a whiff of the BloodClanners.

Just as the leader of the BloodClan group began to pounce, starting the battle, Firestar's eyes widened. "BloodClan," he whispered. "I can scent them, they're somewhere here. They–" As Firestar began the first word of what he was about to say, he was interrupted by the group leader, who yowled a fearsome shriek. He whipped around and grappled with the BloodClanner, as the other BloodClanners rushed toward Specklewing and Mousepatch.

It soon became obvious to the group of BloodClanners that Heat had overestimated, though it didn't hurt her in the least. The pathetic ThunderClan leader had only brought two other cats with him, which was hardly enough to even make up a Clan patrol!

"How did Heat know?" gasped Mousepatch as he locked claws with a sinewy BloodClan warrior. "How could she know that we'd be coming here?"

"Because Heat is all knowing, all powerful," the lithe BloodClanner hissed as he raked his claws down Mousepatch's forehead, emitting a yelp of pain from the ThunderClanner. "She is a true leader, far more capable for the task than your pathetic Firestar." He sneered. "Look at how he struggles with our group leader – one could almost think that it wasn't Scourge this Firestar had killed in the battle between BloodClan and he other Clans, but an unconvincing replacement!"

"How dare you insult Firestar!" Mousepatch hissed, fighting with more fury than before; with the BloodClanner's insults driving him, he managed to strike a blow on the BloodClan warrior's stomach, making him double back in pain – but only for a moment. Though Mousepatch did not know it, endless training and practice made the BloodClanner's seemingly immune to such strikes, leaving them ready and fit again in seconds and feeling almost no pain – or at least appearing to.

A small screech of terror came to Mousepatch's ears; he turned around for a moment and saw it was Specklewing, who was sandwiched between two wily looking BloodClanners. But that wasn't the only reason why the noise had escaped from Specklewing's mouth – Firestar had lost a life. Mousepatch watched in speechless horror as Firestar lay on the gray Twoleg ground, his stomach not rising or falling. He was so shocked he scarcely felt it when the BloodClan warrior he was battling delivered him two scorching blows, one to his back and one to his ear and head. After finally seeing Firestar rise again, looking almost none the worse, did Mousepatch relax and turn back to his battle.

Eventually Mousepatch secured a shot to the clever BloodClanner that left him lying on the ground, making the ThunderClanner sigh in relief – perhaps now he could regain his strength. But to his horror, he suddenly found another BloodClan warrior facing him, fresh and ready to fight. Looking beyond him, Mousepatch saw – and suddenly very acutely scented – more BloodClanners, none that had gotten the chance to fight yet. Just the sight filled Mousepatch's heart with dread – three ThunderClanners could never defeat a dozen fierce BloodClan warriors!

And like Oakbranch had speculated, just fox-lengths away from where Mousepatch was currently standing, Mousepatch thought, _Will I ever leave here alive?_

------

A dull sound filled Oakbranch's ears, making his eyes slowly flutter open and blink several times. Bleary sight returned to him, and for a moment he wondered why he was in an unfamiliar, dark cave. Then he remembered the previous events and let out a heavy sigh. He lay there for a few moments, with only that dull roaring to be heard – some fight between a few dogs or something must be going on near the cave.

_Wait…_only_ that roaring?_ Suddenly alert, Oakbranch's head shot up and without any yawns to accompany it, he jumped up and looked around. He couldn't see or smell Heat – had she forgotten about him? Maybe he could escape! His mood considerably lightened, Oakbranch cautiously walked a few steps, getting near the plants hanging down at the cave's entrance.

"Don't even think of trying to just walk away, ThunderClanner. I'm still here, and watching you."

Eyes widening, the ThunderClan tom quickly turned around and responded, voice quavering, "Who said I was trying to leave?"

"Well, I doubt you were going out the cave for have a nice stroll," the voice from the shadows said dryly. Its speaker emerged from the shadows, a smirk etched on its face. Talon stretched and let out a tremendous yawn, lazily laying down with his tail curled around him. But throughout the whole appearance of general relaxation, Heat's advisor's icy blue eyes stayed fixed on Oakbranch, burning into him.

A small, involuntary shiver rippled down Oakbranch's spine. "Yes, I guess you're right."

The nearby roaring, in which there had previously been a small lull, began even louder again, raising Oakbranch's interest. Trying to sound casual, Oakbranch asked, "Do you know the source of that sound from nearby?"

His answer was short and, like Heat's were, slightly threatening. "I may or I may not, but either way, I don't think you have the right to know – or ask."

Sighing, Oakbranch pricked his ears and craned his neck, trying to hear more of what was going on. He winced as a faint, but particularly high pitched yelp came into his hearing. Whatever was going on, it was definitely a fight of some sort. Though he couldn't possibly know for sure, Oakbranch felt the one who had yelped was on the losing side. Silently, he wished that side well.

------

Specklewing felt a plethora of emotions swirling inside her – dismay, disbelief, anger, determination, and fear. Each one made a raucous in her head, clamoring for attention and bumping about.

Anger – because of the BloodClanners, attacking them and because of their unfair fighting. Specklewing knew battle wasn't fair, but that thought still surfaced in her head.

Determination – she, Mousepatch, and Firestar _had _to defeat the BloodClanners, had to! How else could they rescue Oakbranch and return home to ThunderClan camp?

Fear – would she and her companions get out of the giant Twolegplace alive? Even just thinking of the possibility that she might die made Specklewing shiver.

Dismay – they were losing! The BloodClanners were rapidly overpowering her, Firestar, and Mousepatch. They were going to lose, and the Clan would never know what happened to them…

And, disbelief – for Firestar was losing another life.

_But the way you're saying it makes it sound like he's helpless, can't even be a capable leader. _Specklewing shook her head and frowned, nose wrinkling. Because it wasn't how it sounded. Firestar had been overpowering a BloodClanner when suddenly another one – noticing how his fellow Clanmate was losing – tackled Firestar's free side, and it was suddenly two against one. But the ThunderClan leader was more capable than he looked, and Firestar seemed to be almost free and battling off the both of them when yet _another_ BloodClan cat leaped onto him – and that was more than even Firestar could fight off. With three strong and cunning BloodClan warriors all attacking him all at once, Firestar was soon exhausted and overpowered, all the heavy injuries enough to make him lose a life.

And of course, Specklewing was also feeling guilt. Guilt because she didn't save Firestar. Even if she couldn't have saved him, busy fighting a BloodClan warrior, she still felt as if she could have, single handedly defeating the three BloodClanners and defending Firestar so he wouldn't have lost a life.

But that hadn't happened, and Specklewing could not have done that.

"Do you know how many lives Firestar has left?" Mousepatch gasped to Specklewing while in the midst of battling a heavy BloodClan warrior.

"I – I don't know," Specklewing rasped, narrowly dodging a strong kick for the wiry BloodClanner she was fighting. "I once overheard Firestar telling Leafpool all the Clan thought he had two more lives than he really did, so they wouldn't get worried about him – I've been keeping track of them minus two ever since then now." Specklewing paused, sprinting to the BloodClanner's back in hopes of catching him by surprise. No such luck – he was soon facing her again. "The – the Clan would think he has three now, but minus two, that's…" – Specklewing's eyes widened – "He only has one life left then! StarClan!" The words tumbled from her mouth in shock, and Specklewing instantly realized what she had done – given away vital information to BloodClanners!

"I am _such_ a stupid, idiotic, mousebrained piece of foxdung!" Specklewing muttered, cursing herself as she continued to fight the sprightly BloodClanner.

Heart heavy in her chest, with what she had just stupidly announced to all the BloodClanners, a blunt realization stayed in Specklewing's mind – with only one life left, and a dozen BloodClanners, Firestar would not make it out alive.

Mousepatch seemed to observe what she had realized. "But we have StarClan on our side," he whispered. "They can bring miracles, and a miracle can save Firestar."

A slight grin spread across Specklewing's face. She had forgotten about StarClan! Surely they'd save ThunderClan's most beloved leader. And though it was daytime and the stars could not be seen, the fierce she-cat felt as if the wise StarClanners were watching over her, whispering, "_Don't worry, Specklewing. We will save Firestar, and all will be right. All will be right…"_

Smiling amid the bloodshed of the battle, Specklewing knew StarClan was right.

------

Laying miserably on the damp, dank floor of the cave, Oakbranch yawned and tried to stay awake, in hopes he would be able to get a clearer hearing of the fight outside. If only he could go outside to see what was going on – but with Talon watching his every move, that would never happen. Talon had been staying rather silent for the past few minutes, making Oakbranch feel alone – a strange feeling after the usual hustle and bustle of Clanlife. It wasn't like Talon to stay silent, though – usually he'd make a small remark, usually threatening, but he'd speak all the same.

_What if he's not here?_ Hardly daring to believe the thought that had just flashed through his mind, Oakbranch shook his head and wrinkled his nose.

_But there's no harm in trying…_

Almost as if someone else was directing his own paws, Oakbranch got up without making a sound, and with the utmost stealth, padded lightly through the draping plants, the plants coolly trailing down his back, tickling him. Oakbranch could hardly believe it. No one had caught him yet! Not dropping his quietness, though, Oakbranch walked through the tunnel, feeling some open air starting to wash over his face. He could even see the tunnel's entrance when suddenly a big, dark shape was blocking his view – Talon! Eyes widening, Oakbranch swallowed and tried to make a run for it back to the cave, but his paws refused to obey him, staying firmly planted on the damp ground. His legs had just started to become capable of moving again, though shaky, when Talon was almost in front of him. The ThunderClanner could see a look of confusion and anger on Talon's face, and hear a "What are you doing here?" coming from his mouth.

Oakbranch knew even if he went back to the cave, he'd be in immense trouble. There was no harm now if he tried to escape – or at least, he'd get the same punishment as for being in the tunnel. His shaky legs suddenly becoming strong, Oakbranch whipped past Talon, who gave a hiss of surprise, and ran to the tunnel's entrance, sprinting out before the two guard cats could catch him. He finally emerged into fresh, open air, and rushed out to the side, where he could hear the battle going on.

And found the battle going on between a dozen BloodClanners and none other than Mousepatch, Specklewing, and Firestar.

------

"Oakbranch?!" The yowl of surprise tumbled from Specklewing's lips as soon as she glimpsed the tom, who was wearing an equal expression of bewilderment on his face.

"I – I was caught in Heat's cave – I just escaped! Why are _you_ here?" Oakbranch mewed, eyes widened.

"To rescue you!" Specklewing hissed, claws raking a BloodClanner's stomach.

An unbidden smile flashed on Oakbranch's face. "You look like you need some rescuing yourself."

Specklewing's cheeks burned. "Shut up!" she spat. "Why don't you try and help, instead? Look at Firestar!" At her last remark, a sudden breath billowed out of Specklewing's mouth, her eyes stretched wide in fear.

Oakbranch's gaze switched over to Firestar, who was being attacked by none other than the BloodClan leader herself, Heat – wait, _Heat?_

"He's already lost two lives and he's on his last!" Specklewing hissed.

Oakbranch ignored her remark, still in disbelief that Heat was there. "Don't you know who he's battling?" he hissed.

Specklewing's face was blank. "No. some BloodClanner who's the best fighter out of the group, I guess."

Eyes widening, Oakbranch said, "That's Heat – you know, the _leader of BloodClan_?!"

"_What?!_" The exclamation ripped from Specklewing's mouth as she looked over to Firestar and Heat again, gaping. The BloodClan leader didn't even seem to be feeling any sort of sympathy or guilt for what she was doing – yet she was battling her own grandfather! If anything, there seemed to be a bloodthirsty enjoyment on her face, a wide, fanged smile.

"And she's doing exactly what she hinted she would," Oakbranch whispered, voice hoarse. "She said she'd feel no extra feeling if she killed Firestar – and she was right."

A sudden high pitched yowl came from nearby – Firestar, lying cold and still on he hard Twoleg ground.

A chill came in Specklewing's body and stayed there.

_StarClan wasn't right. StarClan lied. StarClan was wrong. StarClan didn't save Firestar._

Unwillingly, Specklewing's eyes were drawn to Firestar's unmoving body.

_Firestar couldn't save himself._

Mousepatch, Specklewing, and Oakbranch stared at Firestar; Heat stood above him with a smug smile on her face in triumph, with blood dripping from her mouth and claws.

The cold realization sank into Specklewing's heart and mind, until no other thought or feeling remained.

_Firestar's dead._

* * *

**A/N: And how's that for a dramatic ending? And also, my longest chapter ever in Heat of the Sun and all my other fanfics, clocking in at around 5900 words! Hope you enjoyed it – but if you didn't, I'd really appreciate the constructive criticism.**


	13. Chapter 11

**A/N: And here is the next chapter of Heat of the Sun, overdue as always. xD I now know how stupid I was not to make an outline for this fic, but if I did, it would definitely not be where it is now…**

**Disclaimer: I support Jay x Stick and ShadowClan! That means no.**

* * *

**Chapter 11**

* * *

"You have _got_ to be kidding me."

This statement, for one said out loud and for another a thought, came from two cats at almost precisely the same moment. Oddly, this same statement from two different cats referred to one same event – Firestar's death.

The statement said out loud came from Firestar's deputy, Brambleclaw – or rather Bramblestar as he would soon become.

The statement that was thought occurred inside the head of none other than Scorn, warrior of BloodClan.

After Heat succeeded in her killing of Firestar, Specklewing, Mousepatch, and Oakbranch all fled from the scene as soon as the realization that their great leader was dead kicked in for them and the BloodClanners (though the BloodClanners, of course, didn't think of him as a great leader). If they hadn't, Heat would have probably killed them too as soon as she and her BloodClanners got the chance – though it wasn't a must, Heat most likely wouldn't have wanted any survivors to tell their Clan about the death. Instead, she would have enjoyed having ThunderClan being left in suspense until the next Gathering, in which she either might tell the truth of his death and three other ThunderClanners', or replace it with a lie in which a few of her BloodClanners found their bodies, leaving them in the dark of their way of death. In any case, the three ThunderClanners escaped and none of that had the chance to happen.

The cats rushed home and returned to their territory by nighttime, where they found Brambleclaw stationed outside the camp, waiting for the return of Firestar from the Moonpool and the warriors who had presumably gone off on a mere hunting mission. Feeling as if they had no time to lose, Oakbranch, Mousepatch, and Specklewing each told their side of the story, all of which had one cumulative ending – that of Firestar's death.

Brambleclaw's reaction was as mentioned above: "You have _got_ to be kidding me." One would think that's a rather small reaction when being told the news of your great leader's death, but it's usually simple things one can manage out if something hugely important happens. Such was the case with Brambleclaw.

Shortly after that, Brambleclaw fell asleep, presumably from exhaustion. The three cats, not wanting to wake him up, awkwardly stood guard over him so some predator wouldn't kill him in his sleep or anything – as unrealistic as it sounded, it seemed like a true threat to Mousepatch, Specklewing, and Oakbranch. But it wouldn't be surprising to have such paranoia like that after seeing their magnificent leader get killed by the leader of BloodClan just hours before.

Back in the giant Twolegplace, the BloodClanners who had been in the battle paraded around, announcing to every BloodClanner they could find the battle's victory and how their great leader Heat had killed that pathetic weakling Firestar.

So it was that while a stocky tom told this news proudly to Scorn, the BloodClanner thought, as mentioned above, _You have _got_ to be kidding me._

That thought, however, was soon replaced by a feeling of unsurprise. Of course if there came to be a battle between Firestar and Heat, Firestar would lose. It was just that as a ThunderClan apprentice, Scorn had always thought of Firestar as untouchable, undefeatable, a cat with skill that could not be measured. And now this death, just suddenly told to him by a fellow BloodClanner, hit him like a stone – it just seemed so _sudden._

Not to mention that his own brother, his own idiotic brother had been there in the thick of it. From what the stocky tabby had told him about his brother's being captured and trapped in Heat's lair, then escaping by fool luck and not even doing any fighting but simply running with the other ThunderClanners as fast as he could to the forest, perhaps his brother was not as great a warrior as he had seemed at that gathering. But maybe with some intelligence – he surely must have recognized Scorn as his long lost brother, Ferretpaw, or else Oakbranch would never have thought of going to the Twolegplace.

_And_ his former mentor had been there, too, Mousepatch. He definitely would not have been an asset in the fighting – he had always been terrible at it, much better at anything relating to hunting. That would mean it had probably been Mousepatch who had led Firestar and Specklewing so close to Oakbranch, and Scorn had to concede that that had been considerable skill on his former mentor's part; it was hard for those that had not been born in the Twolegplace to manage to find the scents they wanted to and distinguish between many. But Scorn still held the cat in rather low regard.

Then there was Specklewing; Scorn didn't think of her appearance there of much note. She had just been the annoying, arrogant apprentice who hated him and thought he was an arrogant mousebrain.

He could just imagine the look on his former Clan members' faces when they saw that Firestar had been beaten and killed by Heat. In their narrow mindedness, like Scorn had thought back when he was an apprentice, they would have thought it almost couldn't be true, so "great" and "powerful" and "insuperable" he was. He could clearly see the shame, shock, and horror on their faces as they escaped, panting and running for their dear little lives back to the territory of the four Clans.

All in all, Scorn wished he had been there.

------

"Cats of ThunderClan," Brambleclaw mewed as ThunderClanners began to filter in under the Highledge; some looked rather alarmed because of Brambleclaw's grave voice, and the way there seemed to be a sigh in every word. "It is my sad duty to inform you of a terrible event that happened just the last sunrise."

Every cat's breath except for Oakbranch's, Mousepatch's, and Specklewing's as Brambleclaw paused, his amber eyes looking down at the ground. Finally he looked down at the ThunderClanners beneath him.

"Firestar has been killed."

All the ThunderClanners sat in a stunned silence as their eyes widened, each of them thinking the same thought – that it could not be true. How could the great Firestar, beloved leader of ThunderClan, be dead? It was simply impossible.

"He was killed," Brambleclaw continued, swallowing, "by Heat, leader of BloodClan."

The silence was broken. Every ThunderClanner let out furious – the word furious couldn't even describe it – yowls, each one an insult and/or threat.

"I'll kill that evil cat! How can she dare to call herself a leader?!" Dustpelt snarled, pawing the ground as his tail swished.

"That filthy piece of foxdung was Firestar's own granddaughter!" Brightheart spat as her one good eye narrowed. "She was _related_ to him!"

The noise of the ThunderClan cats combined made a roar, each cat either snarling, spitting, or hissing with narrowed eyes and enraged expressions.

Only four did not have this reaction. These three were Firestar's family – Sandstorm, Squirrelflight, and Leafpool, and Firestar's dearest friend, Graystripe.

"StarClan told me nothing of this," Leafpool whispered, her breathing heavy.

Graystripe shook his head. "I remember when I first met him," he whispered softly, head hanging low. "A pudgy little kittypet who I thought would be fun to scare. And now, this…" Graystripe let out a deep sigh and raised his head, gazing up at the sky. His mate, Millie, licked him reassuringly on one of his ears.

Squirrelflight gulped and shook her head, eyes tightly closed. "My daughter," she kept on mewing softly. "My own daughter." It appeared she had also said "killed my father", but it sounded more like "kll m – m fa…" followed by sniffles.

Sandstorm made no sound. When she attempted to, it came out as a rasp. Her eyes were glassy with tears that weren't spilled, and she stayed motionless, her reaction so huge it couldn't come out in her body. Finally, she managed a weak "Firestar…" The word hovered in the air and seemed rather small and helpless.

Perhaps because that was what Firestar was now – small to the world, and helpless. It was hard to believe that the famed leader could even have such adjectives apply to him. Perhaps to a prematurely dead kit, small and scrawny and nearly just a mere scrap of fur. But not to a cat that used to have a blazing ginger coat and vibrant green eyes, with lean and tough muscles. It just didn't fit – except for that now, it did.

"His memory will always be greatly honored," mewed Brambleclaw, his calm and steady voice quieting down the ruckus at once.

"Well, of course," Sorreltail murmured. "He was _Firestar_."

The crowd of ThunderClanners began to mutter and mill about, looking bored yet sad at the same time; an awkward combination.

"When will we all share tongues for the last time with Firestar?" Dustpelt yowled, casting sympathetic glances at Firestar's kin.

"Later," Brambleclaw meowed. "Right now I have to tell you all something I have only recently found out myself, as a bit of explanation for Firestar's death."

Once again the ThunderClan cats fell silent at once, though there was still some mutterings that could be heard, and more than a few faces that looked suspicious at Brambleclaw's words.

"We all know," Brambleclaw started, "of how one of our apprentices, Ferretpaw, mysteriously disappeared a few moons ago.

As soon as Brambleclaw stated this, poorly stifled crying was heard, coming from Creamflower. At that moment Oakbranch was fervently glad he had been able to keep his sadness – a sadness that was also aware of "Ferretpaw's" fate – apparent only in his glassy eyes.

"I was one of the many who wondered what had happened to him," Brambleclaw continued, shooting a sympathetic glance at Creamflower, "and it wasn't until last night that I found out.

Every voice was silent in suspense, every cat hanging onto Brambleclaw's words. More than a few cats' eyes widened.

Brambleclaw exhaled deeply, and at the moment he looked like a weary cat with more moons weighing down upon him than he had. "Ferretpaw," Brambleclaw said, with heaviness in his voice, "went to join BloodClan."

"What?!" Creamflower screamed. "You're lying, you're lying! Brambleclaw, I hate you – you're an awful deputy! How dare you tarnish Ferretpaw's memory!" Her yowls descended into sobs as she broke down in tears. Sandstorm came and comforted her, knowing what it was like to just be hit with such a painful realization.

Other protests broke out, though none as vehement as Creamflower's, not even Berrytail's and Honeydrop's, the parents of Scorn, Creamflower, and Oakbranch..

"Quiet down!" Brambleclaw shouted amid the chaos, amber eyes flashing.

Most did, though for the older cats it wasn't because of Brambleclaw's attempt, but more of the way at how as his amber eyes had flashed in anger, he had looked so much like the evil Tigerstar.

"I am not lying," Brambleclaw said patiently. "You are hearing nothing but the truth right now." Creamflower glared up at him, but Brambleclaw ignored it. "Ferretpaw has become a far different cat than the one we knew. He has flourished as a BloodClan cat, and his name is now Scorn."

"That was that cat who made that leap when he was introduced at the last Gathering, as the newest BloodClan warrior," one cat meowed.

"It sounds like – like Scourge," whispered another.

Oakbranch's eyes widened. He'd never seen that similarity. What if – what if Scourge was Scorn's idol? What if he wanted to be like him?

"At the Gathering where Scorn was presented as a new warrior of BloodClan, three ThunderClanners recognized him for who he once had been – Mousepatch, Oakbranch, and Specklewing."

All eyes turned to the three, and Oakbranch found himself cowering, the staring gazes turned on him making him uneasy. Somehow he now felt like it was a crime for seeing through the fake identity of Scorn.

After this Brambleclaw hesitated; Oakbranch knew why – this was the part where Oakbranch made a fool of himself and ran after his brother. Brambleclaw inconspicuously gave him a questioning look, to which Oakbranch gave a small nod of assent. They'd find out, anyway.

"When Oakbranch recognized his long lost brother, he went somewhat – somewhat mad with grief and longing. He convinced himself that his brother had been tricked in some way, and that if he went to BloodClan's territory and confronted his brother, his brother would go back to ThunderClan without question and become a normal ThunderClan warrior."

Once again Oakbranch felt the weight of every ThunderClanner's look on him, and this time it was worse; it was all focused totally on him, without Specklewing or Mousepatch to share it with. Oakbranch kept his head down and hoped Brambleclaw would continue his tale soon.

"He disappeared into the night, bent on finding his brother. Early in the morning, Specklewing woke up and found him missing, and automatically knew what he had done. She awoke Mousepatch and they both told Firestar. On the pretenses of going to the Moonpool and going on a long hunting mission, they traveled to the giant Twolegplace. While napping, exhausted from his long trip, Oakbranch had been captured by a band of BloodClan cats, and was brought to Heat's lair where he was kept under the watch of Heat's trusted advisor, Talon – the grandson of Scourge."

Some muttered how ironic it was that the greater evil was related to Firestar and Brambleclaw rather than the one related to Scourge. At once a murmured reply would come, stating how Talon was evil all the same, so it didn't make much a difference.

"Firestar, Mousepatch, and Specklewing finally, after traversing much of the huge Twolegplace, found themselves in a place where Mousepatch insisted he smelled Oakbranch's scent. Almost no sooner after they had arrived there, though, a group of BloodClanners began attacking them, as if they had been lying in wait there for the three ThunderClanners all along. Firestar, Specklewing, and Mousepatch were far outnumbered, and Firestar had lost a life, due to unfair fighting by the BloodClan cats. As Firestar began losing his second life after battling around three or four BloodClan cats at once, Oakbranch suddenly came onto the scene. He had escaped from Heat's lair, and hastily joined in the fighting as well. But the addition of Oakbranch to ThunderClan's side wasn't enough. Heat killed Firestar, causing Firestar to lose his last life."

"How could this be?" Hazelheart asked. "Every cat in our Clan said he said he had six or seven lives, not only three!"

This time Specklewing spoke up, beating Brambleclaw. Typical of Specklewing to butt in, Oakbranch thought. She was that confident type. "He led cats to believe he had two or three more lives than he really did," she mewed. "He didn't want us to be worried about him."

"He lied to his Clanmates!" Hazelheart objected.

"As did Bluestar about her lives, and many of the leaders before her," Brackenfur put in, eyes glimmering with patience.

Brambleclaw gave the golden brown tom a nod of thanks, and resumed speaking as the voices died down.

"After Firestar's death, Specklewing, Oakbranch, and Mousepatch knew they would have to flee, or else no cat besides the BloodClanners would ever know what happened to Firestar and the three ThunderClanners, as the BloodClan cats probably would tell a lie about what happened to them at the next Gathering, the truth only known by them.

"Now you know the full story of Firestar's death. We will be sharing tongues with him for the last time at moonrise. Meanwhile, I will have to go to the Moonpool and get my nine lives, and appoint a deputy." Brambleclaw bowed his head and leaped off the Highledge, padding over to Squirrelflight to comfort his devastated mate.

As Oakbranch had sadly suspected deep in his mind, mass chaos broke out after that, despite the various times Brambleclaw had told them to quiet down. More than a few of the cats' yowls were directed at him.

"You _killed_ Firestar, Oakbranch!" Birchfall snarled, teeth bared. "You're the one who chased after your precious little BloodClan brother – your idiocy led Firestar to his death! You – you –"

"You little piece of foxdung!" shouted one of the younger apprentices, Stonepaw, probably saying what Birchfall had meant to.

"You have no right to be here," hissed one cat – Oakbranch couldn't catch who it was as, horrified, he looked around the angry faces with their fury directed at him. "Maybe you should just leave ThunderClan; you're worthless and no good at all."

"He suffered through so much!" cried Ferncloud. "Tigerstar, dog packs, Scourge – and now he's killed by Heat because some _mousebrain_ went searching for a brother he very well knew would never come back to ThunderClan!"

And all of a sudden, several ThunderClanners began shouting, "Leave! Leave! Leave!", each one of them with narrowed, flashing eyes, harsh voices, and paws that looked like they could barely keep their claws from unsheathing; it was almost like it had all been planned beforehand.

"Silence!" Brambleclaw yelled. He went back to the Highledge and his gaze swept across every ThunderClanner, his eyes hard. "How dare you," he spat, "how dare you blame an innocent ThunderClanner on a death that Heat committed? How would any of _you_ feel if you just found out your thought-for-dead sibling had become a BloodClanner – wouldn't you become desperate and try to bring them back? How would you feel if your Clan decided to make you a scapegoat just because you cared so much for your sibling? It was Firestar's decision to do this – he could have not gone and would still be breathing right now, but if so, it would be likely we'd have lost three ThunderClanners, each one just as valuable and important as Firestar. Now what do you have to say for yourselves?"

No cat piped up; not a word was heard. For the second time Brambleclaw jumped off the Highledge and wearily made his way to the warriors den; Oakbranch supposed he wasn't quite ready yet for the leader's den that Firestar had occupied so recently.

But the moment he was gone, small murmurings of dissent began again. Oakbranch knew this wasn't over.

------

All of BloodClan roared, stomped their paws, and yowled joyous battle cries into the air as they celebrated Firestar's death. Scorn yelled just as rowdily as the rest of them, and snickered as he thought of the pathetic ThunderClanners mourning him as they celebrated. Every BloodClanner down to the smallest kit was there, just as excited as the warriors though it knew not what they were so happy for.

"Now," Heat purred, adjusting her position on the huge heap of garbage in the big dump at the end of the big Twolegplace, "I have another announcement."

Scorn grinned and shifted his paws; he had an idea of what was about to happen. His whiskers twitched as he looked up at Heat, whose amber eyes gleamed with what seemed an amusing joke known only to herself.

"You all know of the newest portion of BloodClanners recruited lately," Heat meowed, as the BloodClanners nodded and smirked.

"Well," said Heat. "these cats are usually frightened and threatened into joining our Clan, and it is only by sheer terror they usually stay and eventually become respectable BloodClan cats." Scorn glimpsed several BloodClan cats nodding – undoubtedly ones who had had such an experience. "This strategy is rather hit and miss; it can be common for new recruits to run away, though they are eventually…recovered." A smile played about Heat's lips as she mewed the last word. "However," Heat continued, "this last group of recruits _willingly_ joined, persuaded and completely convinced by one rather new BloodClanner, who decided to use cleverness and cunning instead of rough words and brute force." Many BloodClanners cringed – they were probably such cats, now afraid they had fallen out of Heat's favor.

"Unless this cat hadn't sidled up to them and constantly gave them reasons and logic as to why being a BloodClanner would be the best thing to do, these cats could have been among those who later fled for their lives, then found themselves dying in a gutter with a BloodClan cat staring at them above. So, I have decided for this cat to be moved up to the next order of BloodClan cats."

A surge of hope rose in Scorn's chest. He had been in BloodClan for a few moons and was already sick of the order of BloodClan cats he was currently in – the lowest one, barely for BloodClan warriors. With all its cats, BloodClan was organized in orders. The highest order was Heat's elite, the most loyal and faithful, and also the most skillful and dangerous. Scorn could already imagine standing among that small group, his fangs gleaming as he gave a dangerous smile…

"Scorn," Heat hissed, in a voice that was somehow quiet yet impressive and booming, "come up to the Scraphill to move up to the next order of BloodClanners."

Scorn felt as if his heart was thumping so loud every BloodClanner there could hear him, perhaps even the unassuming kittypet walking in the outer stretches of the giant Twolegplace. As he leaped up onto the Scraphill, he tried to look as dignified as a young, excited tom with a heartbeat a million times a second could be.

"You have proved yourself," Heat mewed, "In your strategy and cunning, and the way you have taken a different approach to BloodClan ways. Because of this success I, Heat, leader of BloodClan, move you, Scorn, warrior of BloodClan's lowest order, up to the next highest order of BloodClan. You will now no longer do as many of the common tasks of drudgery that you once did before, but now ones that differentiate. You are also now eligible to participate in bigger battles instead of smaller fights."

Scorn bowed his head before Heat, excitement twinkling in his eyes.

Heat turned toward the crowd of BloodClanners and looked down at their attentive faces. "Now," she said, "let us celebrate our Clanmate's _highering_."

"Scorn!" the cats all yowled, their voices making a huge roar. "Scorn! Scorn! Scorn!"

Scorn smiled and basked in their attention, their recognition of his accomplishments. He could get used to this; this celebration would be even better if it was for if he ever got into the highest order of BloodClan warriors. Now that would be something to revel in.

The BloodClan tom noticed a section of BloodClan toms smiling and nodding their heads towards him; most likely the cats of the BloodClan order Scorn had now been moved up to. They were near the back, before the lowest order of warriors that Scorn had previously been in and behind some of the BloodClanners who currently weren't warriors and scattered around the edges of the crowd: queens, several healers, apprentices, and kits. His gaze flicked to those cats nearest the Scraphill – the Elite, the highest order of BloodClan warriors that few ever joined. They were the best of the best, with their teeth and claws sharp and gleaming, their perceptive eyes sizing up everything around them. They were the most dangerous and the BloodClanners that cats had to truly fear. Scorn knew without a doubt that one day he would be among them – he could just picture it now, him much bigger and more muscled, the strongest and most cunning of them all, the one that even Heat kept an eye one because he could be a threat to her leadership…

Scorn suddenly felt a stare burning into the back of his head. Turning around, he saw it was Heat's. Her narrowed amber eyes had a wild gleam to them, and Scorn could see that her skill at interpreting facial and body movements had not diminished. She knew of his ambition, and just as Scorn had fantasized, she was keeping an eye on him. But unlike in the dream world, such a thing held far more of a danger. No BloodClanner wanted Heat watching them. Especially Scorn, after what Heat had told him the second time he had tried and failed to join BloodClan.

It wasn't over yet, and unless Scorn's ambition all but faded away, Scorn knew it never would end.

The implications of that made a shiver ripple down Scorn's spine.

------

Something pushed Oakbranch in his back, hard. Emitting a small snore, Oakbranch rolled over and continued sleeping again. In his dreamland, Oakbranch dimly felt a sharp claw rake his side; he winced and his peaceful sleep momentarily fell away. Taking advantage of the weakness, whatever was trying to hurt him kicked him in the tail, which was then bitten by possibly something else. The bite was given by sharpened fangs and lasted for a long time. The pain was enough to fully wake Oakbranch up. Eyes still bleary, they opened and Oakbranch attempted to stretch and yawn, the key word being attempted. As his sight became more clear, Oakbranch saw he had wrapped with plants and his paws and feet somehow crudely tied together; Oakbranch had no idea how whoever had done that had accomplished it. His mouth also had a thick leaf held on it by a firm paw, and two big leaves had been stuck over his eyes with sticky sap, so they wouldn't come off. The firm paw holding the leaf suddenly lifted, and Oakbranch, delighted, tried to speak, but the leaf was still there; it must have had the same sticky sap applied to it as to the leaves covering his eyes.

"Who did this?" Oakbranch tried to meow. With the leaf on his mouth, it came out more as "Iu ih zz?"

His captor (captors?) understood what he meant. "Those who know you _did_ cause the great Firestar's death because of your selfishness and foolishness, no matter what that furball Brambleclaw is trying to convince us to think."

Eyes narrowing, Oakbranch had a faint memory of some of the cats who had protested against Brambleclaw about how Firestar died and who had made Brambleclaw give a lecture. "Ferncloud? Birchfall? Stonepaw?" Oakbranch asked, those being the only three he remembered. However, it came out more or less as "Ercd? Chfuh? Oaw?" instead.

"All you need to know is that we're ThunderClanners – the true ones, the loyal ones. The ones that Firestar is probably gazing down proudly upon up in StarClan, grateful for those that are trying to stand up for him and tell others the real truth and cause of his death."

Oakbranch angled his ears, trying to recognize the familiar voice. But it was spoken in a low, quiet hiss, and not in a normal voice that Oakbranch would have known, so he couldn't recognize the speakers at all.

"Let me go!" he shouted, his words becoming a muffled, "Ull m oh!"

"Why should we let a filthy traitor go?" one snarled. "So you can strut about and act like a noble hero who bravely escaped Heat's clutches and never did anything wrong?"

Oakbranch lowered his head. Though twisted and more arrogant, a bit of it was about the gist of how Oakbranch would have acted.

"We're never letting you go?" hissed another cat. "We're dragging you way out of the territories, where you can be left to starve and rot – the right punishment for one who caused such a magnificent leader's death just because he had a supposed sorrow."

Oakbranch groaned inwardly. To become a skilled warrior, to escape from Heat's lair and survive the battle when outnumbered and find his way with Mousepatch and Specklewing back to ThunderClan, to have Brambleclaw take the truth sadly but reasonably, have a few cats disagree, and then be left in the middle of nowhere to starve to death and rot, tied up by plants?

It was, Oakbranch decided, a rather shameful ending.

"Say bye to your life in ThunderClan, traitor," one cat whispered huskily into his ear." Just after that was said, Oakbranch abruptly got flipped over onto his stomach with an _oomph_, making Oakbranch lose his breath. He let out a couple shallow breaths as the group of cats started dragging him by the loose fur on his neck. Oakbranch sensed that they weren't dragging him that way to make it less painful, but only because it was easier for them. His face stuck into the ground, getting dirt up his nose and somehow around the leaves and into his mouth and eyes. Under the leaves Oakbranch squinted and tried to get the dirt out. The ThunderClanner felt some pressure on his bottom; another cat must have been pushing him there, so as to make it faster for the trip.

As Oakbranch had expected, the trip was a very uncomfortable and painful one. Besides the snapping of tree branches, the crackling of leaves, and the small sound of grass being ruffled, there were no sounds at all besides occasional grunts from the cats dragging Oakbranch away from ThunderClan camp and some moans from him; however, the moans soon stopped after one cat kicked him and spat, "Traitors like you _deserve_ the pain" after one particularly long and torturous moan. Oakbranch decided it would be prudent to hold his pain in after that.

Twigs, leaves, and grass got shoved in his face and body, the grass sometimes squeezing into the leaves and poking into his nose and eyes. Branches would sometimes get caught in his ears and jab into them, leaving Oakbranch wincing.

After what seemed like ages and ages –and for all Oakbranch knew, could have been–, Oakbranch's neck fur was released from its grip. Moving his body a bit, Oakbranch tried to get a feel for his surroundings. From what he could glean with his restricted body movement, there were no trees surrounding him, and the grass was short and prickly. It was all rather bare, giving Oakbranch the knowledge that wherever he was, it was far away from ThunderClan territory and perhaps all the Clans' territory.

"Good bye, traitor," a cat snarled into his ear.

"Tell me who you are! I'm going to die anyway…" Oakbranch mewed. With the leaf on his mouth, it turned into "Ull m oore! M ng dyy…"

The cats understood what he meant. "Why should we tell you?" one purred. "There's the small chance you'll survive and get back to ThunderClan, and we can't have that Brambleclaw – soon Bramblestar – knowing who we were. With the corrupted Clan system we have nowadays, we would get exiled for doing the right thing."

These ThunderClanners, Oakbranch decided, were mad, completely deranged. How had he lived with them without knowing this facet of their personalities – how had he and the other ThunderClanners missed it?

"Good-bye, selfish traitor," another cat purred, sounding positively delighted. The bloodthirstiness…how could these cats be so happy that they were sending an innocent Clanmate to his death?

Oakbranch heard a scuffling of feet, and was left in total silence. The cats had left him in the dust to die.

It would be a long few days.

------

Oakbranch had no idea how long it had been since had been stranded far away from the territories of the Clans. All he knew was that his stomach felt hollow, he spent most of his time sleeping or unconscious, as he appeared to remember little time being spent awake, and he couldn't even twitch his ear or wiggle his tail. Most of his mind was devoted to thinking _I _will_ survive, I _will_ survive,_ but the logical, sensible, and also pessimistic part of his mind kept on whispering, _You're going to die, and it's soon._

Strange how his mind's minority seemed to actually be the majority.

Currently Oakbranch's mind was a blank; he felt too exhausted and weak to even think anything. As a hazy phrase of a thought floated about in his mind, the starving tom heard noise that came from other cats in what seemed the first time in forever and ever. Their scent floated about in the air, and a whiff reached Oakbranch.

The smell was BloodClan's.

He stiffened and prayed to StarClan for them not to notice him. But StarClan hadn't saved him from being stranded here, so why would they save him from a group of BloodClan cats?

Now he could hear their voices, talking and laughing. As they came closer, he could make out the words somewhat.

"Look!" one suddenly shouted. Oakbranch froze. "There's a cat all tied up lying down there!"

"I wonder why it's there…" one mewed.

"Why don't we go and inspect it?" suggested another.

Under the leaf, Oakbranch's eyes widened. He recognized that last voice. It – it was Scorn's. His weak heartbeat sped up, and he almost emitted a mewl. His brother…would his brother, BloodClan though he was, care enough for his sibling to save him? A flurry of feet moving sounded throughout Oakbranch's ears, and the BloodClan scent became much stronger; they must have been bending over him now. Though the concept frightened Oakbranch, the actuality of it didn't scare him quite as much, probably because he couldn't see anything and he was weak enough for it not to really matter to him. He would be dead soon anyway, BloodClanners roughing him up would only speed up the process. Oakbranch felt almost grateful for their presence.

The BloodClanners figured out what he was soon enough. "It's a cat who was left out here to die!" one said, laughing. "Why don't we help it along?"

One sniffed him, tickling Oakbranch's fur. "He smells of ThunderClan!" the cat yowled.

"Do you think ThunderClan finally grew a backbone and gave one of their cats a proper punishment?" a BloodClanner snorted.

"That seems like the only possibility," said a thoughtful voice – Scorn's. Perhaps – perhaps the tone was thoughtful because he pitied him? Pitied him enough to free him after the other BloodClanners left?

"I'm feeling a bit bored," said a cat who had mewed the crack about helping him along.

"So'm I," another remarked. "Why don't we do what you suggested and help it along towards its death?"

"That's a good idea!" one cat cackled, her laugh raucous.

A faint, involuntary shudder went down Oakbranch's spine. Surely – surely they weren't being _serious_? But Oakbranch knew they were.

Oakbranch felt the ground move as a few cats ran away then ran back toward him. They pounced on him and dug their claws into his skull, making Oakbranch's head reel. One kicked his legs. A few banded together and Oakbranch felt himself rise into the air as they picked him up and threw him. He fell almost immediately to the ground with a thump. His bones screamed in protest, and Oakbranch's head started to throb.

"Hey!" a BloodClanner who wasn't participating in the "fun" yowled. "Stop! We pride ourselves on defeating cats with just as much skill as ours, not helpless ThunderClan scum! Save your claws for a real battle."

"But this is fun," whined the she-cat with the ragged sounding voice.

"Yeah, but Swipe's right," one of the BloodClanners who had been beating Oakbranch admitted, with more than a hint of shame in his voice. "The filth _does_ deserve it, but we have better cats to fight." A multitude of low voices agreed with him, though Oakbranch didn't feel any particular pleasure as the BloodClan cats backed away, not even summoning enough strength to give a feeble thanks to StarClan. Everything inside him hut and throbbed and Oakbranch felt even worse and weaker than before, which he thought was quite a feat, considering how frail he had been feeling before that. Black spots swam in his sight as darkness struggled to claim him. But if he fell unconscious, there would be a big chance that eventually, Oakbranch would never wake up from it, and the small bit of pride still standing in himself thought it an outrage for him to die, never found, in the middle of nowhere, starved and beaten to death.

"We should go," said a deeper voice. "This wasn't why Talon sent us out here."

The other cats agreed and their pawsteps became quieter as they got farther away.

"Hey, Scorn!" the cat with the deep voice meowed. "Aren't you coming?"

"I – just have to make dirt," Scorn responded, his voice smooth.

"Maybe you should do it on that pathetic thing that's supposedly a 'cat'," a snide voice suggested. "That's what we think of them weak ThunderClanners anyway."

"Maybe I will," Scorn replied, a note of amusement in his voice.

Oakbranch's hope crumpled; was that the only reason Scorn had stayed? To make dirt on him so as to disgrace him even more? What a wonderful memory for Oakbranch to have in the last days of his life…

As soon as the voices and pawsteps of the BloodClan cats disappeared, Scorn hissed into Oakbranch's ear, "I don't know why I'm doing this, but because I feel insanely guilty for some idiotic reason, I'm freeing you. _Don't_ think this means I still have any feelings for you. You're just a pathetic ThunderClanner with no sense or intelligence whatsoever."

Despite the derisive and derogatory words, Oakbranch's heart lifted and he smiled. StarClan had saved him by way of his brother. The tom lie down, feeling like the luckiest cat in the world, as Scorn ripped apart the plants that tied him and tore of the leaves that covered his mouth and eyes – though the latter two with some difficulty. Oakbranch knew his eyes and mouth would be sore and sticky for weeks.

At last, Oakbranch found himself free of all bondages – but still very frail, weak, and hungry.

"Wa-a-a-dd-errrrr…fudd…" he moaned in a small, cracked voice.

His face twisted in disgust, Scorn rolled his eyes and ran off. For a second Oakbranch was terrified his brother had abandoned him, still leaving him there to die, but untied. But in a few minutes Scorn came back, with an unusually big and plump mouse. Oakbranch gobbled it back up and sucked the water of a wide, damp leaf soaked with water that Scorn had also brought him.

As it came clear that that was clearly not enough to sate Oakbranch's hunger, he brought back two more mice and a sparrow, plus three more soaked leaves. Oakbranch ate each piece of prey and left no scraps. He also sucked the leaves until they were nearly dry. Finally he had had enough and felt much better.

"Tha – thank you," Oakbranch rasped, looking up at Scorn.

"Don't," said Scorn rudely. "I didn't do this out of any affection for you. Never mention this to any cat, or your saved life won't last very long."

Oakbranch nodded. He looked up at the sky and thanked StarClan. When he looked back down, Scorn was gone.

------

Scorn skidded to a stop and began walking alongside his Clanmates.

"Long one, eh?" said one BloodClan cat. Scorn nodded, now feeling guilty for an entire different reason: helping the enemy, and his weak and pathetic brother, no less. A sick feeling formed in his stomach.

Another BloodClan cat frowned. "Making dirt shouldn't take as long as that," she muttered, eyes narrowed.

"I was feeling a bit peckish," Scorn replied in a fake confession of sorts, "so I caught a couple mice." The last part wasn't a lie, but it made Scorn feel nervous all the same.

The BloodClan she-cat nodded and fell silent.

"Well," growled the leader of the group of BloodClanners, Snag, "I guess there are no cats here after all, like Heat suspected. But it was worth trying. Anything for more recruits, and with the means to persuade them, too." With the last few words, Snag shot a look at Scorn. Scorn's _highering_ to the next order of BloodClanners was still fresh in every BloodClan warrior's mind. Whenever such a ceremony happened, most BloodClanners were more wary, keeping an eye on any recently _highered_ cat, viewing them as dents to their chance at power. Scorn had witnessed this before with other cats, and knew how to throw their suspicions off – make a few mistakes on purpose, curb his sarcasm, act humble, and act a little slow witted at times; such simple strategies easily threw off most BloodClanners.

"Aw, I couldn't do that all by myself," Scorn mewed, shaking his head. "I just got a li'l lucky once."

Scorn continued in some more idle chat with his fellow BloodClanners, and by the time they reached the huge Twolegplace, the incident with his brother had all but faded away from his mind. By the time the day ended, the only thoughts he had of his brother was that he was a pathetic ThunderClanner. Nothing more, nothing less.

It was a rather bad time for his almost perfect memory to slip.

* * *

**A/N: I know most of this all seems like random mishmash and rambling, but trust me, this chapter does have a purpose.**

**Anyway, I'd like to thank all my reviewers. I know it shouldn't be so important to me, but I was ecstatic when I got my 100****th**** review. It just feels like something important, you know?**

**Constructive criticism appreciated.**


	14. Chapter 12

**A/N: Insert usual apology here. Long chapter here; even longer than the last one (which was almost 7k, if you care to know). And I mean **_**really**_** long.**

**Disclaimer: Um, uh, NO.**

**Chapter 12**

* * *

"The cats on the dawn patrol are Oakbranch, Ferncloud, Dawnpaw, and Stormfur." The voice of the new deputy, Cinderheart, echoed throughout ThunderClan camp.

Still weary from sleep, Oakbranch nodded and stretched, grabbing another piece of prey, a mouse, from the fresh-kill pile. Savoring the plump prey, he took each bite slowly, trying to ignore the prickling on the back of his neck, a sure sign that someone was staring at him.

After swallowing the last bite of mouse, the brown tom quickly looked behind him, just in time to see the focused green eyes of Ferncloud look away as she hurriedly started up a conversation with her brother Ashfur, who was busy eating a thrush nearby. The brown tom saw Ashfur speak slowly, his eyes narrowed at Ferncloud as his eyes seemed to waver towards Oakbranch.

Oakbranch was sure Ferncloud had been one of the cats who had left him helpless in the middle of nowhere, but he had no proof. Any cat would have yelled at him for what he did in his opinion, even Oakbranch himself if it had been another cat. And Ferncloud's recent staring at him couldn't necessarily mean that she hated him; Clanmates had been staring at Specklewing and Mousepatch, too, ever since the battle in the Twolegplace that resulted in Firestar's death. And no one hated _them_; but they hadn't gone off like a fool to rescue a brother that wouldn't come back like he had, which explained that.

"Oakbranch! Are you coming or not?" A shrill voice yowled. Oakbranch looked toward the direction the yowl had come from and saw the voice belonged to Dawnpaw, her short, pale gray fur bristling and her odd gray eyes narrowed in annoyance. Like always.

"Of course I am!" the ThunderClan warrior mewed back, padding over to her, Stormfur, and Ferncloud, the other cats in the dawn patrol, but not before looking back a little longingly at the fresh-kill pile. Oakbranch had been gorging himself a bit ever since his time without food or water. He did feel a little cramped now and then, but he decided that after all that time without anything to eat or drink, it would be good to have more than usual. Looking again at the irritated Dawnpaw, he wondered in a small part of his head if Dawnpaw hated him like Ferncloud; after all, her brother, Stonepaw, hated him and he suspected Stonepaw had also been one of the cats who tied him up and left him to die.

Ferncloud narrowed her green eyes at Oakbranch as he walked up to them and mewed, "Don't forget the regular way of doing things in the Clan after your…little adventure."

Oakbranch said lightly, "Of course I won't." but then wondered with a slight shiver if she was referring to the battle with BloodClan or his being left in the middle of nowhere for days. He hoped (but doubted) that it was the former.

A gray tail suddenly whapped him and Ferncloud in the face; it was Dawnpaw's. She glared at them both and meowed, "Are you coming on the dawn patrol or not? At this rate, we'll be starting at sunhigh."

"Don't worry, we're coming," Oakbranch mewed, as Ferncloud snapped, "Respect your elders and betters, Dawnpaw."

"I do," the she-cat muttered, then stalked off to her father, Stormfur, the last cat on the dawn patrol. Oakbranch glanced at Stormfur and wondered how such a cat like Dawnpaw could come from such calm and mild mannered cats like Stormfur and Brook.

Stormfur's gaze switched from a whisker-twitching, bristling Dawnpaw, to a Ferncloud with an angrily swishing tail and narrowed eyes, to a rather confused Oakbranch who seemed to have the expression of "Don't ask me." Whiskers twitching with what could have been amusement or consternation, the gray tom mewed, "Well, I guess we better get going." He led the way out of the ThunderClan camp, Ferncloud, Dawnpaw, and Oakbranch following.

The dawn patrol looked to Oakbranch like it would be a pretty normal, peaceful one–no skirmishes and arguments with WindClan or ShadowClan, no badgers, just a nice walk redoing the markings and on the lookout for any sort of trouble that really wouldn't be coming that day–so he just walked along and let his mind wander.

Almost immediately, Oakbranch's thoughts turned to BloodClan. (No surprise.) It all seemed so strange the way BloodClan hadn't attacked any of the Clans – the _real_ Clans – yet, or even made any suggestions of a battle at the Gatherings. Perhaps it was because they had plenty of territory and prey in their giant Twolegplace. But there were Clans because the Clans depended on each other, so if BloodClan didn't need the other Clans, did they really need to be a Clan at all? BloodClan being part of the Clans was just too odd; they weren't a natural Clan – that is, there hadn't been a cat named Blood along with Thunder, River, Shadow, and Wind (and according to Firestar's big quest when the Clans still lived in the old territory, Sky) so they couldn't be a real Clan, a Clan StarClan _meant_, right?

_Right,_ thought Oakbranch. It all made perfect sense to him. After all, didn't Firestar say after the big battle with BloodClan when Scourge was leader that StarClan had told him there were always five Clans – StarClan, ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan? (Six if you counted SkyClan.) But _BloodClan_ wasn't – was never – mentioned. StarClan would have mentioned them if BloodClan was a real Clan, not a group of cats led by a cat who just wanted power and to rule the forest, and a cat who would kill to get it, and enjoy those killings.

But – but when Heat and the rest of BloodClan first appeared at the Gatherings, back when Oakbranch was just Oakpaw, StarClan hadn't covered the moon with clouds; in fact, it had been clear skies all night, the moon shining brightly and all the stars twinkling. StarClan had shown no disapproving or anger, just indifference, or even – Oakbranch shuddered just to think of it – approving. Heat had even successfully been given nine lives by StarClan! Oakbranch shook his head; this was just all too preposterous to think about, yet all completely _true._ There had been no Blood that became Bloodstar, yet StarClan hadn't covered the moon when BloodClan reappeared, even after their attempt to take over the forest back in the old territory. StarClan had said there had always been meant to be five (six, including SkyClan) Clans, after BloodClan's defeat, yet Heat received nine lives just like any normal leader of any normal – real – Clan. StarClan had been unsupportive of BloodClan at first, but now they seemed to act as if BloodClan was any old Clan that had been there at the beginning! Oakbranch had always thought StarClan made things nice and clear, not contradicting and confusing.

Now his head hurt.

However, Oakbranch still had an innate instinct that something about BloodClan was just _wrong._ They didn't live in the forest, they didn't have normal Clan names (Heat? What was wrong with Heatstar?), they had tons more cats than any other Clan (Oakbranch sometimes speculated they might have as many as all the other Clans put together), they had_ kittypet collars_ with _teeth_ on them, for StarClan's sake, their cats regularly killed others, and they most likely – Oakbranch just _knew_ they did – had different customs than the other Clans.

Oakbranch wrinkled his nose and narrowed his amber eyes, whiskers twitching. There was obviously more evidence stacked up for BloodClan not being a true Clan than there was for it being one. Whatever StarClan might think before they changed their minds again, in Oakbranch's mind, BloodClan was definitely not a Cla–

Wait. That meant they were little better than rogues. Scorn…

Scorn was a Clan cat, _not _a rogue. Scorn may have been a BloodClanner, but he would never, _ever _be a rogue. Oakbranch's brother could not be a rogue and would never be a rogue.

But were the other BloodClanners still rogues then? They were just as good as, since they were so cruel and mean. But then Oakbranch remembered the cat who had told all the other BloodClanners to stop throwing him around like a ball of moss and kicking and hitting him; though it wasn't all, Oakbranch reflected. Around half – maybe even more – had stood aside. But they had just watched and only that one cat had spoken out, so wouldn't they be just as bad? They were practically participating, but with their eyes instead of their paws and legs, just too squeamish to hurt a bound up and helpless cat. ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan – StarClan, even _ShadowClan_, would never do that. But BloodClan would, because it was an evil non-Clan made up of bloodthirsty rogues.

And Scorn.

Oakbranch sighed.

"Hey, Oakbranch! Catch up with the rest of us, won't you? We won't wait for you, you know!" Dawnpaw's shrill yowl pierced Oakbranch's ears, and he winced, running over to the group of three.

"With all the yelling and noticing you do, Dawnpaw, maybe you should become deputy when you're a warrior," Stormfur joked, as Dawnpaw shot yet another scowl at Oakbranch.

"Well, I don't think Cinderheart will die anytime soon," Oakbranch replied with a smile, thinking, _Luckily_.

Dawnpaw screwed up her nose at Oakbranch, which the brown tom interpreted as time to go back to his thoughts again.

This BloodClan quandary seemed like only something StarClan could solve – but if they could do so, why weren't they telling any cat? Did they think no cat would think about it? Well, they were wrong in that respect, Oakbranch supposed. He was doing that very action right now. But StarClan knew _everything_ – they were StarClan. So why didn't Oakbranch just…somehow get to StarClan in a dream? StarClan came to the Clans – though really only medicine cats and leaders – so why couldn't a Clan cat go to StarClan? Besides, the question was perfectly harmless.

But…how exactly could one get to StarClan? Only dead cats knew how to walk the skies – and Oakbranch knew he certainly wasn't dead. Perhaps he could…direct his dreams? After all, it seemed like that was what StarClan did to the dreams of medicine cats and leaders sometimes, after they went to the Moonpo–

The Moonpool! How had Oakbranch forgotten about it? He could sneak out that night to the Moonpool, touch his tongue to the water, fall asleep, and meet with StarClan in his dreams! It was definitely the best chance Oakbranch had of a discussion with StarClan. Yes, the Moonpool was the answer–

"Fox!" yowled Ferncloud, her tail waving about and her eyes widened. Jolted out of his ponders, Oakbranch's eyes widened also and he mewed, "What?!" as his ears pricked.

Indeed, there was a fox just a few fox-lengths (Oakbranch noticed this, but did not laugh at the irony) away from the four cats. Inspecting the fox, however, Oakbranch observed it didn't look like it was much up to a fight; its ribs jutted out of its brown smudged and stained fur, which hung limply on its body (a far cry from the long and lustrous reddish brown fur of a healthy fox), and its tail waved around weakly, as if rattling a death knell. Oakbranch wondered why a fox would look so starved and helpless during a time that wasn't leafbare, but then his gaze traveled to one of the fox's legs, which looked twisted, somewhat infected, and very dirty. With such a hurt leg, the fox couldn't have hunted well at all.

"We need to drive it out of our territory!" Dawnpaw hissed, casting her trademark glare at the fox as if that was all that was needed for it to be defeated.

"Don't race in right away," Stormfur said in a calm voice. "Even though the fox is injured badly, it can still fight."

Stormfur was right, judging from the wild, ferocious look in the fox's dull yellowish green eyes. It could have been driven near crazy from pain and hunger.

"Now," Stormfur mewed to Dawnpaw, as if he was training her on how to fight other animals in the training clearing, "stand still and watch the fox closely, preparing yourself for when it'll attack…"

As if the fox had heard this and felt insulted, it suddenly ran (surprisingly at a very quick pace, what with its hunger and twisted leg) towards the dawn patrol, a raspy snarl escaping from its mouth. Oakbranch saw Dawnpaw race ahead eagerly to the fox, but Stormfur pushed her away; after all, he was her father and had the right to be protective.

Stormfur headed to the fox's front, while Oakbranch and Ferncloud headed for its sides. Dawnpaw tried to go to the fox's behind, but Ferncloud pushed her away like Stormfur; it was known throughout ThunderClan how protective Stormfur was of his kits.

"Take this, fox," the gray tom hissed, scratching his muzzle as Oakbranch and Ferncloud sunk their claws into his sides. The fox whined and bared his fangs, trying to kick out, but before it could do anything Dawnpaw tackled the fox from behind, sinking her fangs into its back. Ferncloud and Oakbranch were both so shocked (and slightly frightened for the well-being of Dawnpaw after Stormfur got to her) that they momentarily lightened their grips and the fox sprung free, slowly turning around with its twisted leg. Stormfur, however, had not been frozen into submission; his daughter's risk seemed to make him more agile and he jumped onto the fox and sunk the claws on all his paws into it, except for one which he used to strike its head. The fox struggled, snapping its jaws. It also wiggled furiously, causing Stormfur to lose his balance and fall off the fox.

Oakbranch and Ferncloud had been closest to the fox's jaws. However, Oakbranch's back had been turned, and he disregarded the fox's scent seeming so close to him, as it had already been close. It wasn't until Oakbranch felt claws sink into his back and rake his skin did the fact register in his mind that the fox must have escaped Stormfur's grip. He whipped around and saw the fox also turned around as well, lumbering over to Stormfur as he was the one who had caused the fox the most pain.

But Dawnpaw, ever the eager one to do some harm to the enemy, crept over to the fox and almost falling as she did so from lack of balance, used both paws to pull the fox's tail. "How do you like that, eh, fox?" Dawnpaw mewed, smirking.

Though Dawnpaw had obviously not intended it to, this action successfully diverted the fox's attention away from Stormfur to Dawnpaw, and the fox prepared to leap on the pale gray apprentice. But before it could do that, Stormfur ran to the fox and tackled it, digging his claws into its skull. "You – will – not – hurt – my – _kit_!" Stormfur snarled, sinking his claws deeper after each word.

Oakbranch watched the fox's yellowish green eyes flicker, then close, as its body stiffened and it fell to the ground.

"It's – dead," Dawnpaw meowed, gray eyes widened as she stared at the limp fox.

Stormfur, panting, nodded.

"Well, it was going to die soon, anyway," Oakbranch pointed out, inspecting the fox. "It had that injured, infected leg and was starving."

Dawnpaw nodded, too shocked to glare at Oakbranch as if he were insulting her intelligence by stating the obvious.

Stormfur swallowed, giving the fox a quick glance. "Well…I guess we should…proceed onward, right?"

Three murmured yeses answered him, and they started walking again, as if the fight had never happened. (Except for Dawnpaw, who continued to dart awed glances at the quickly shrinking figure of the fox in the distance.)

Oakbranch winced as a burst of pain occurred in his scratches the fox had given him and wrinkled his nose, trying to ignore the stinging.

"Are you all right, Oakbranch?" Stormfur asked, turning back to look at him with a frown.

The brown warrior nodded. "Just – just a few scratches from that fox," he mewed, trying to speak of it lightly. "Nothing Leafpool can't heal."

"Oh, okay." Stormfur looked away, as did Dawnpaw and Ferncloud.

Ferncloud had had an odd expression on her face.

Oakbranch's jaw went taut.

The hate wasn't over yet.

* * *

Oakbranch staggered over to the warriors den and nearly collapsed on the nest of comfy moss. He had planned to go to the Moonpool, but for some reason he had just been so very exhausted; plus, he'd had a few stomach cramps. Nothing a quick visit to Leafpool hadn't fixed, though, after he'd received the remedy for the deep scratches from the "fox". As his eyes closed, he almost forgot that he had forgotten to go to the Moonpool and talk with StarClan. But Oakbranch didn't particularly want to anyway. Why tramp around in the forest during the cold nighttime, when you could be in a warm warriors den where the moss was just so…cozy…

Oakbranch found himself in a rather dusty clearing surrounded by some big oak trees. Looking around, he saw he wasn't the only cat there – there was a blue-gray she cat that was obviously Bluestar, leader before Firestar, and a tortoiseshell tom with a ginger tail, a strong looking white tom with blue eyes, and a big golden tom with warm amber eyes. Oakbranch looked at them with his eyes narrowed, wondering who these three cats were. They must have been important, by the looks of them. The big white tom looked rather familiar…was he Whitestorm, the first deputy Firestar had? The ThunderClanner decided it was pretty likely, then turned his gaze to the other two cats. The tortoiseshell tom had a strange red tail, added to the strangeness of his being a tortoiseshell and a tom. Wait…of course! It was Redtail, Bluestar's first deputy and the first cat that Tigerstar had murdered. The big golden cat still looked unfamiliar, and couldn't think of who he could be. Perhaps he was another of Bluestar's deputies? There had been, in order, Redtail, Lionheart, Tigerstar, Firestar. He could be Lionheart – he had the golden pelt and amber eyes. In fact, he looked exactly how Lionheart was described in the elders' tales, so that was who the cat must have been. Satisfied that he had figured this all out, Oakbranch turned his gaze to the last two cats. These last two cats were a young tortoiseshell she-cat, and last of all, Firestar himself, looking alive and well that Oakbranch almost had the urge to run up to him and yowl, "Why are you here and not leading ThunderClan?!", but he managed to restrain himself.

"I – I thought I didn't go to the Moonpool," Oakbranch stammered, gazing at the five cats in awe.

"You didn't," said the tortoiseshell she-cat, smiling kindly at him. Oakbranch guessed she was Spottedleaf, the medicine cat before Yellowfang, Cinderpelt, and Leafpool.

"But why have you come to me then?" Oakbranch asked, looking with wonder at the StarClanners that all must have been well known ThunderClanners. "I'm definitely not a leader or medicine cat…" Oakbranch trailed off, eyes narrowed in confusion; after a moment his eyes widened, and he burst out, "Unless I'm the subject of a prophecy! But – but that can't be, Leafpool hasn't received any prophecies like that and I would _never_ be the subject of a prophecy…"

"Relax, you're none of those three," Bluestar purred, licking a forepaw and running it through her fur. Her icy blue eyes glimmered with what seemed to be amusement, as her tail swished around her paws a bit.

"Then – then why am I here?" Oakbranch mewed, eyes still narrowed in confusion.

The tortoiseshell tom shrugged. "Not only medicine cats and leaders can receive answers from StarClan," he said simply, as if the answer was obvious.

So – StarClan _knew_ Oakbranch had had questions? But if so, why didn't they just start answering them straightaway? Or maybe they could just sense questions that desperately needed to be answered were asked, but didn't know the questions themselves? Hmm…that was something interesting that could be speculated one for a while.

A silence settled in the clearing for a while, and the StarClanners stared at Oakbranch, their pricked ears and thoughtful expressions making it seem they were expecting or waiting for him to speak – which they probably were. But those cats were _StarClanners_ – Oakbranch couldn't just speak like he was talking to any old cat to _StarClanners._

The golden tom – Lionheart – chuckled, his chuckle more like a deep rumble. "Just let out your thoughts," he meowed, whiskers twitching in amusement. "Go on. We won't bite if you say something which you think we'll object to." The other two toms, Whitestorm, and Redtail, seemed to be amused by this, and they _mrrowed _in laughter. Oakbranch felt somewhat offended by this

The brown warrior sighed. They were StarClanners; they couldn't understand how odd it was to be standing in front of well known former ThunderClanners who wanted you to let out all your thoughts, wonderings, and dissensions. Perhaps they could've understand when they were simply living ThunderClanners themselves, but not anymore, not now.

Then Spottedleaf smiled reassuringly at him, and he found the words burbling from his lips like a waterfall, voicing all his worries that he'd found during the dawn patrol.

"StarClan – you – first said that there were always meant to be five Clans; StarClan, ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan. Yet when the new BloodClan came to the Gathering, you didn't cover the moon with clouds. You let Heat gain nine lives like any normal Clan leader. The Clans live in the lake territory, except for BloodClan, which lives in the giant Twoleg-place and doesn't even have normal Clan names. They could live without the Clans – they had enough cats, prey, and territory – and had no need to battle the other Clans, unless they just wanted our territory because it was there. BloodClan…"

Oakbranch continued to talk, feeling a bit embarrassed at how the words were flowing nonstop from his mouth. The StarClanners' expressions didn't change; perhaps a whisker twitching here, a tail swishing there, the occasional expression becoming just a _little_ more thoughtful, but the StarClanners might as well have been gazing at the sky and not listening to a ThunderClanner rant about BloodClan.

Finally, Oakbranch finished up. Saying his last words, he mewed, "Why StarClan, why? Why aren't you doing anything? Will there be prophecied cat to drive them out? Are they here for an important prophecy? StarClan…please, just give me some answers."

For the first time, Firestar strode out of the group of cats, ginger fur shining like a flame and green eyes full of luster. Once again Oakbranch felt the urge to tackle him and drag him back to ThunderClan camp like he had merely run away and had to be brought home. And it sure seemed like it to Oakbranch, with that flaming pelt and those piercing green eyes full of luster. Yet his eyes didn't have the luster of life or joy, but of sadness.

"Oakbranch, we are sorry. We don't control destiny, and not every cat in the world. We are merely the ones who pass the important messages on." The other StarClanners nodded in agreement and bowed their heads.

"What – what do you mean?"

Firestar just gazed at Oakbranch, his eyes brimming with an unspeakable sadness. Well, Oakbranch mused, it would probably be speakable when he said what he had to say. But that wasn't the point. His eyes still had this deep sadness to them that it seemed any living cat would be capable of – the kind of sadness that comes from a cat who is wise, who understands it all, who has a complete knowledge of the world.

"Oakbranch," he said. "There is no destined cat. There is no deep, unknown reason."

"But – but –" Oakbranch sputtered, tail waving around frantically.

"There is no prophecy."

* * *

Scorn bobbed and weaved his way to the front of the crowd, avoiding squeezing through the cats and getting annoyed complaints. Satisfied, he pricked his ears and didn't hear one mutter using his name or the description "that brown tom".

Content, he sat up straight and turned his gaze to the Scraphill, where Heat was currently sitting down with her tail wrapped around her paws, waiting for the rest of the second and third lowest orders to filter in around the Scraphill. Just a couple moments ago a sleek black cat–one of Heat's messengers–had sidled up to him and hissed that Heat had wanted him–a cat of the second lowest order of BloodClan warriors–to go to the Scraphill. Turning his head, Scorn watched some sheepish looking cats sit down at the edges of the crowd, the last ones to arrive.

Heat studied them all, then mewed, "I shall assume that all of the cats of the fourth and fifth orders of BloodClan warriors have arrived, and proceed." The way she said this almost convinced Scorn that there would be a few unlucky latecomers, but he resisted turning his head to look, knowing that several warriors were probably doing that at the moment.

A long furred ginger she-cat sitting next to Scorn snickered. "Stupid cats thinking what Heat's saying is true. S'not like everything she says will become the truth, even if it's that big dogs will fall out of the sky in place of rain."

Almost instinctively, Scorn's eyes flickered to Heat, and sure enough, Heat's gleaming amber gaze was centered on the long furred she-cat. The BloodClan leader had spies everywhere, and those spies were excellent at what they did. Sometimes Scorn wondered if they could read minds.

"You may all be wondering why I have called you – the fourth and fifth orders – here to the Scraphill today." Heat's voice slithered out of her mouth like a serpent, then swishing into the cats' ears and just barely tickling the sensitive fur like a small breeze, whispering important words.

Scorn could almost hear the nodding of every cat sitting around the Scraphill.

"After rather recent developments, I have decided it should be fairly simple for us – and do well for us – to recruit BloodClan cats from the Clans."

Scorn's cheeks burned as he recognized the allusion to his joining of BloodClan, and felt glad not many cats knew his exact origins, as was the case for most BloodClan cats. However, the BloodClanner still felt a spark of annoyance inside him because of the reference, knowing that because of it a few more cats would learn of where he came from soon. And he definitely did not want more BloodClanners to know he was once a Clan cat – and not just any Clan cat, but a ThunderClan cat, which was considered the worst of the worst.

"As you know, it is the fifth and sixth BloodClan orders that are used for recruiting, not the fourth and fifth."

Once again Scorn could almost hear the nodding, like it was essential for every BloodClan cat to give some sort of sign indicating they had heard and understood what Heat had said, and as if this sign was needed very much, too.

"But, of course, it is far easier to convince kittypets, loners, and rogues who are either scared stiff of us or have never heard of us before to join BloodClan than Clan cats that hate us with a passion. Thus, somewhat better skills in logic, persuasion, and reasoning will be needed – why the fourth order has been called along with the fifth and not the sixth."

Scorn noticed previously disgruntled cats almost glow from the tips of their ears all the way down to the last sharpened edge of each claw, noticed cats that had had insulted expressions (recruiting was for the fifth and sixth orders, after all, not the fourth) before look bloated with arrogance and pride and get their frowns replaced with wide smiles. Glancing up at Heat, Scorn saw the BloodClan leader looking down at these sixth order cats, a smug expression gleaming in her amber eyes, but her mouth still staying neutral, in neither a frown nor smile. Obviously, so not everyone could see her amusement and pleasure at how highly her BloodClanners regarded her opinion.

Scorn inhaled slowly and hoped he would never be like that, kowtowing whenever he could to his leader without the bounds of reason. Yes, Heat was an excellent leader; no, she wasn't the equivalent of StarClan. (Not that Scorn thought StarClan was good enough to be used in that kind of analogy, but he was thinking in the frame of mind as he would have back when he was an apprentice in ThunderClan or as that of a Clan cat in a BloodClan cat's place, not with his own opinions.)

"You will recruit kits and apprentices, as they are more susceptible to persuasion, and kits will not have much memory of Clanlife – they will eagerly go along with you to a "fun place", and be raised as BloodClan warriors. I expressly forbid you to attempt to recruit warriors – they are firmly set in their ways and will run away to their leaders to tell about what we are doing, not come along with us.

"If you're thick headed enough to think the only way to recruit Clan cats is by meeting them while they're hunting alone, I shall need to reconsider why I ever even raised you so far as to the fifth or sixth order."

Scorn rolled his eyes. He wasn't an idiot, despite the condescending way Heat would speak to them often. He had already figured out the alternative to recruiting Clan cats. One would go to the Clans disguised as a rogue or loner who was lost and hungry. While staying, they would discern what apprentices and/or kits would be good as BloodClanners, and convince them to leave with them when they weren't "lost" or "hungry" anymore. All this after disguising one's BloodClan scent of course; forgetting to do that would put a serious flaw in the plan.

Predictably, Heat went on to speak Scorn's thoughts, and though Scorn knew he wasn't such a suck-up as some of the other BloodClanners, he couldn't help feeling the glow of satisfaction that he'd been right about what Heat thought.

"Some BloodClanners have already been sent out in disguise as rogues or loners to get kits, so the Clan cats will not get too suspicious about all the sudden rogues and loners."

Eyes narrowing, Scorn glowered at the ground. So he wasn't good enough to be sent out early? _He_ was the one who had persuaded all those cats to join BloodClan, and had them thinking it was of their free will. _He _was the one Heat had praised. _He_ was the one who had been moved up so quickly from one order to the next for doing precisely what Heat now wanted them to do specifically.

Heat was still not done. She opened her mouth once more, and mewed, "But, of course, they will still be suspicious. You cannot always use the unoriginal 'lost and hungry loner or rogue'. If you're planning to try to convince ThunderClanners, maybe say you have heard of the Clans and you are thinking about joining, but would like to experience some Clanlife before doing so. Those soft geese would accept such a flimsy explanation immediately, and welcome you with open paws."

Scorn heard a small voice mutter somewhere behind him, "And what if we can't think of any other explanations?"

"If you can't, dear Falcon, then I shall give you a suitable Lowering later this day," Heat returned in a sugary sweet voice, giving the impression that she could hear and see anything as usual. Despite the sweet voice, the look Heat had on her face was the one a cat would wear when staring at a particularly plump and oblivious piece of prey.

The BloodClanner Falcon, a light brown tom with a permanently scrawny look, shivered a little and stuttered, "N – no, H – heat, I – I – I'm p – perf – fectly fine h – how I am."

Heat smiled, amber eyes shining with fake concern. "So you're able to think up your own explanations?"

Falcon nodded, head bobbing up and down to prove the point. "Y – yes, Heat."

Once again, Heat smiled – but if one looked closely, they could see the sharp point of a fang poking out of her mouth. "Glad to hear it, Falcon."

After this murmuring broke out as BloodClanners began to talk to each other about this new development, assuming the meeting was over. Scorn began to exchange a couple words with a shorthaired gray cat to his left but kept a close eye on Heat, knowing the meeting was probably not over and when Heat called them to attention again, she would delight in the astonishment and fear on her BloodClanners' faces.

"I'm not sure if the Clan cats – even apprentices and kits – will be so easily convinced like Heat says," said the gray cat with a frown. "After all, they've been raised on tales like 'the evil Scourge" and "the wicked Tigerstar" since before they were weaned. Even if our scents are disg–"

"Now, what was I going to say?" Heat cleared her throat, exaggerating the sound, and all BloodClanners jumped and sat facing Heat again. The gray cat's clear green eyes quickly switched from Scorn to the leader of BloodClan, with an almost blank stare.

"Ah, now I remember," Heat mewed, though it was obvious to every BloodClanner she had never forgotten – and Heat knew that.

"Dearest Falcon over here" – Heat gave the shaking Falcon a quick smile as every other cat was glad they weren't Falcon – "made me finalize a decision I had been pondering about for a couple days. I have come to the conclusion some cats simply aren't…_good _enough to infiltrate the Clans during recruiting."

Scorn bet Heat had really enjoyed those shocked, gaping, and hurt expressions that graced the faces of many BloodClanners at the moment.

"Therefore, I have decided on a group of cats among you, the fourth and fifth orders, to be allowed to both catch the apprentices while hunting alone and disguise yourself as a loner or rogue and enter the Clans." For a moment, an expression that actually seemed to be stern and serious went on Heat's face while her gaze traveled over the crowd of the fourth and fifth order of BloodClan warriors. "These cats are Swipe, Dusk, Scar, Edge, Gleam, Mask, Whip…"

Scorn patiently waited for his name, looking calm and peaceful, but as more names were spoken and none were Scorn's, his expression in his mind had a mouth that opened wider and wider, with eyes that continued to widen in astonishment and anger. How could Heat do this to him? She had acknowledged him as an excellent recruiter – surely he was good enough to infiltrate the Clans? He had even lived among them, had been born in the Clan, for – for StarClan's sake! Heat was an ignorant fool if she didn't pick him to be able to pose as a loner or rogue in the Clans!

"…and Scrape. That is all."

No. It – it couldn't be true. He wasn't part of that group. Heat was an ignorant fool, but it was impossible! Heat was observant, was intelligent, was cunning! She couldn't have simply _forgotten_ about him, especially when it took him three times to join BloodClan as a ThunderClan apprentice.

"Oh, yes, and another; I just completely forgot. Scorn."

A rush of bubbly joy filled up as Scorn's entire body, all the way to the tips of whiskers, seemed to exhale. But it completely disappeared almost a moment after, replaced with red-hot fire, no, white-hot, so hot it was white. It seared and burned; it would make ashes of anything that touched it. Scorn looked up at Heat, his lip curled and his amber eyes narrowed and flashing.

Heat's eyes gleamed and she just gave him an innocent-seeming smile. Scorn guessed she would have sneered, if he was the only one there – but he wasn't; he was just there along with the rest of the fourth and fifth BloodClan orders.

Heat had done it on purpose. Had taken a perverse pleasure in watching him being crushed, hurt that Heat had thought that little of him. But she didn't – just liked him to think that so she could have fun toying with him. Heat may have been an intelligent and cunning leader, but she was also a cruel one, in more ways than one.

Oddly, though the searing silver-white fire still flamed inside him when Heat let them go, with the words they were now free to start their recruiting, what Scorn was thinking about the most was that the cat Falcon hadn't been allowed to recruit inside the Clans themselves.

Heat may have been cruel, but she was also sensible enough (and not vindictive enough) to know that letting a terrified cat to infiltrate the Clans would just destroy her plan. One could say the leader of BloodClan was a happy medium.

Scorn disagreed with that statement.

* * *

The lost loner that was currently staying in WindClan for a short period of time, Dandelion, was pretty friendly. She had lots of stories to tell about odd places that Pricklepaw had never been to before, like giant Twolegplaces. Pricklepaw had been interested in Twolegplaces ever since she heard BloodClan lived there; she wondered how any cat could live there, but she thought it sounded a whole lot more interesting than the boring lake territory, which stayed the same day after day after day. At the huge Twolegplace there were many Twolegs that didn't try to harm you, giant monsters, lots of other cats and animals, and many strange Twolegnests of which no two looked alike. It all just seemed so much more…fascinating than the rather boring day-to-day Clanlife.

Not that anyone else knew. Pricklepaw liked to keep secrets – it gave her a thrill, making her feel as if she had some sort of power over her Clanmates, even if it was just something like, "I ate a little bit of mouse on a hunting mission." The small brown apprentice had prided herself on how well she kept her secrets – she had never told one, whether it was one of her own or a secret someone else had told her.

But then Dandelion had came. And Dandelion was…different.

Read as: Pricklepaw had done what had once been the unknown to her. She had spilled a secret to the sunny she-cat. There had just been something about Dandelion that wanted one to tell her a precious secret of yours. The secret Pricklepaw had spilled was her most recent one, her interest in giant Twolegplaces.

And not only that. Just her secrets in general. How she loved to keep them, how she loved the thrill, the strange power. How nobody knew (except for Dandelion, now).

But as stated before, Dandelion was different. Better. Not like a Clan cat. She hadn't just stared at her then walked away. Instead, she had mewed in Pricklepaw's ear, "Come with me out of the camp. I have something to tell you, and I don't want to be overheard."

Pricklepaw did so with almost zealous obedience. What Dandelion had said meant more secrets, and Pricklepaw nearly lived for secrets, especially during boring lulls in her life.

When the two arrived at a fairly isolated spot in the moors of WindClan territory, Dandelion mewed, "Pricklepaw, how would you feel if I told you that I've lied about who I am – that I'm not a loner?"

Pricklepaw shrugged. "Lots of cats lie. I lie. You lie. We do it because we have to."

Pricklepaw saw Dandelion's eyes widen, and the loner (or not) half-smiled. Had Pricklepaw impressed her for some odd reason?

"Good," Dandelion meowed. "You seem like one of the few sensible cats here in the Clans. All right; here goes: I live in the giant Twolegplace – in fact, the one BloodClan lives in."

Pricklepaw's yellow eyes widened immediately, and her tail swished around with excitement. "Really? You do? What's it like? Is it better than here?" Then it occurred to the WindClanner what the last part Dandelion had said meant. "Wait – the same one as _BloodClan_?!" Mingled horror and excitement came onto Pricklepaw's face, as she looked up at Dandelion with widened eyes, almost begging with them for more secrets.

"And – I don't just live near the BloodClanners…Pricklepaw, I _am_ one. I was sent here to find cats who wanted to join BloodClan."

One part of Pricklepaw's mind urged her to do what she had been taught as a Clan cat. Run away. Tell the leader. Battle her. Yowl.

The other part was in ecstasy. A huge secret, and an exciting one. Dandelion – a BloodClanner? She didn't seem like what the others had said BloodClanners were like…Dandelion wasn't cruel or bloodthirsty or mean or evil or anything…just nice and understanding and kind. Things like that.

"Wow," Pricklepaw whispered. But what had been drummed into her since a kit still throbbed in her head: Tell the Clan. Run away. Yowl. Battle her. So she proceeded to spill some of her thoughts.

"But – Dandelion, you're not like what my Clan says BloodClan cats are like you. You're not bloodthirsty or evil, and you're not cold and mean, either, or anything like that. You're just…normal."

Dandelion smiled. "That's because that's what BloodClan really is, despite the wicked sounding name. Just a normal Clan, but a big one that lives in the ci – giant Twolegplace. Sure, our leader may seem pretty cruel, but she's really just smart and clever."

Pricklepaw nodded, her eyes feeling like they would be widened perfectly. She could believe that. The ShadowClan leader, Blackstar, seemed kind of mean, but ShadowClan seemed perfectly fine with their leader, didn't they? And if you thought of the same thing, but with BloodClan, and incorporated Dandelion into it…

Yup. BloodClan – just a normal Clan. That lived in a giant Twolegplace, in a place that was better than the moors or the lake or the forest. And which had Dandelion in it, and maybe cats like Dandelion.

"Dandelion, I – I know this sounds kind of weird, but I want to join BloodClan. It just seems – seems better than WindClan." Pricklepaw looked at the hilly ground right after saying this, just in case she got a scornful reaction back.

However (and thankfully), Pricklepaw didn't get that. Instead, Dandelion laughed and meowed, "Of course? Why couldn't you? We always welcome more recruits. Come with me!"

Pricklepaw blinked. "We're leaving? Now? Already?"

Dandelion grinned. "Of course! Why not? Do you want to stay here any longer?"

Pricklepaw shrugged, brow furrowing. "No, not really." She let her yellow gaze travel over the moors one last time, then mewed, "Okay, let's go!"

* * *

Minkkit scuffed some leaves with his small paws, purring at the satisfying crackle they made. He wondered why his mother, Honeydrop, never let him out of her sight or into the forest – it was so fun! He couldn't wait until he was an apprentice and could do this every day, though Honeydrop might try to stop him. Whenever he asked why he couldn't leave the nursery, she always mumbled something. Minkkit could never hear what exactly she mumbled about; he had heard the sounds "Sc" and "F" before in the mumbles, but that was it. Well, that and "looks alike, but a little lighter," but that was it. It confused Minkkit very much, and no one would explain this and much more to him.

His ears pricked as he heard a big skritching noise – maybe it was a mouse, or a vole! Minkkit could just imagine how proud Honeydrop and Berrytail would be of him, for catching prey when he was just a four-moon-old kit. His brother and sister of another litter would be proud too, especially his brother. His brother appreciated warrior skills like that. His paws touching the ground lightly as he padded through the grassy groundcover (at least, how light a kit could make their paws, which wasn't very much) Minkkit moved toward what he thought was nearest to the prey. Soon, he saw a small tail flick out of a bunch of leaves and plants. So there was prey! Minkkit pounced, aiming for the tail. Right before he reached the ground, however, a small mouse shot out of the plants and ran under a bush, disappearing from Minkkit's sight.

Minkkit sighed; he had been so close! Now Honeydrop and Berrytail wouldn't be proud of him, and nor would his brother and sister. They would be so disappointed – they – they might even hold of his apprentice ceremony because of this! Or punish him for escaping from camp where he could get lost or eaten or hurt!

Minkkit's tail drooped, his good mood now ruined. He began to head toward where he thought ThunderClan camp was, his tiny paws making soft padding and crackling noises on the grass and leaves.

"Hey, that was actually a pretty good try for a kit."

Minkkit spun around, his brown fur beginning to bristle. He didn't smell ThunderClan, only a strong scent which he knew was definitely not that of another Clan's. Some cat must have trespassed on ThunderClan's territory!

Standing in between two slender trees was a cat with dark gray fur and a small smile, and his eyes half-lidded.

"Who are you?" Minkkit demanded in his kit squeak. "You're on ThunderClan territory, you know. You could get Punished." Minkkit knew that. He got Punished a lot.

The dark gray cat laughed and stretched, arching his back. Somehow this seemed all the more worse to Minkkit; it showed he was at home at a place that he couldn't be and it showed he didn't care about that.

"I should know," Minkkit continued, his kit nature taking the better of him as he began to ramble to a stranger. "Once I went outside the nursery and I got in trouble, even though kits are allowed to go out of the nursery. Then I had to stay in the same spot in the nursery all the way through moonhigh. It was _terrible._ Sometimes I don't like Clanlife much, there's too many rules and stuff. That's why I'm here. I wanna make Honeydrop and Berrytail proud."

The dark gray tom smirked, but Minkkit didn't notice. Instead he went straight to another topic, announcing, "Where are you from? You smell strange?"

The tom smiled widely, replying, "I'm from a place where there aren't as many restrictions as your home."

Minkkit's nose wrinkled and his eyes narrowed. "What does _restrictions_ mean?"

The tom let out a soft, weary sigh. "It means there aren't as many stupid rules and stupid punishments."

Minkkit's eyes widened. "I want to go wherever you live! It sounds better than here. Would you let me out of camp?"

"Certainly," mewed the dark gray cat, laughing. "Are you sure you want to come with me to my home?"

The brown kit nodded furiously, whiskers twitching and tail swishing in excitement. "Yeah!"

The tom grinned. "Okay," he purred. "Follow me."

* * *

"You'll have to try harder than that, Hawkpaw," Voletooth mewed in a monotone to a burly black tom, as if he had said such a sentence hundreds of times.

Hawkpaw didn't even bother to sigh or let his whiskers droop. This had happened too many times for him to be sad about it anymore; he felt nothing anymore except for resentment.

"Don't worry," Voletooth added, though the look in the mentor's eyes almost seemed to encourage Hawkpaw to do just that. "You'll understand this fighting move soon." The tone in which Voletooth said this suggested just the opposite.

"I'm sorry," mumbled Hawkpaw, though he had said this too hundreds of times. The words had become so natural coming out of his mouth they were almost – unnatural, if such a feeling made sense.

"Anyway," Voletooth meowed, "why don't you go on a hunting mission? The fresh-kill pile is low, and you've become pretty good at hunting."

"Sure," Hawkpaw muttered.

Voletooth's face brightened up immediately, and he raced off to talk with a couple other RiverClan toms.

_He could at least bother to disguise the fact that he loves it when he doesn't need to mentor a worthless piece of mousedung like me_, Hawkpaw thought, eyes narrowing in Voletooth's direction. Nonetheless, Hawkpaw began to pad out of RiverClan camp.

He hadn't gone very far, however, when his brother – Cloudpaw – strutted over to him.

"Where're you going, bro?" Cloudpaw mewed, sneering as he said the word "bro". "Off on yet another hunting trip, because your mentor knows how useless it is to try to teach you how to fight?"

Hawkpaw ignored the routine bullying, but a spark of anger still began to burn inside him, as he resisted the urge to unsheathe his claws. He didn't need to waste his fighting skills – however dismal they were – on his brother.

"Good to see you too, Cloudpaw" was all Hawkpaw murmured as he padded past him and out of RiverClan camp, over to the river. He went further than most cats so he wouldn't need to be near any of his Clanmates, even though most didn't taunt him about his fighting skills. But Hawkpaw saw it in their eyes, just the same.

Hawkpaw crouched on the banks of the river, staring with glassy eyes at the rippling water. He couldn't think about catching fish now. It was one of those days – one of those days when, despite how routine it was, how much he was used to it, his horrible fighting skills would get into his mind too much, as would the teasing he got because of it. On these days the little flame of resentment and anger became bigger and bigger, until Hawkpaw almost couldn't stand it.

The black apprentice continued to stare at the river, a slight frown on his face. He still couldn't understand why his fighting skills were so horrible. Sure, one couldn't always be good at something, but they wouldn't be bad. After all, when for ages and ages cats learn how to fight and hunt, it's pretty unlikely there would suddenly come a cat who just couldn't get the hang of fighting at all.

Yet Hawkpaw had been born, and he was just that.

Something always went wrong when he tried to engage in a mock-battle with another apprentice or his mentor, Voletooth. He knew it wasn't the way Voletooth taught, because Hawkpaw thought his mentor taught pretty well, it was just something inside Hawkpaw, something innate that Hawkpaw really wished wasn't innate.

It would have been okay if Hawkpaw was a hunting master; then he would be respected, because it was harder to hunt if you were a RiverClanner than if you were a cat of any other Clan. But he wasn't particularly good at hunting – he just had a normal skill for it.

And instead of doing anything about it, his fellow RiverClanners did nothing – they jeered at him and laughed at him, or just outright ignored him, because he was Voletooth's problem, not theirs. Or rather, no cat's problem, because Voletooth didn't seem to pay much attention to him anyway. They could have asked one of RiverClan's best fighters to help him out and teach him, as perhaps they'd be better than an average warrior. But no, RiverClan just resented him; he was like something that was just in the way, like a rock you would stub your claw on.

He could leave RiverClan and become a ThunderClanner, and his Clanmates still wouldn't care. Maybe Cloudpaw would celebrate.

StarClan, he could go to _BloodClan_, and they still wouldn't care! Not that BloodClan would want him – according to many cats, they were superb fighters. They wouldn't take in a dud like him.

"Slacking off on your hunting?" A smooth, unfamiliar voice slunk into Hawkpaw's ears; for a moment he almost thought it was Cloudpaw, there to tease him as usual. Turning around, Hawkpaw found himself facing a light tabby she-cat with slit yellow eyes.

"Who – who are you?" Hawkpaw asked, settling into a defensive stance.

The tabby yawned and stretched, her body long and lithe. "Just a harmless loner," she replied, a tinge of amusement and derision in her voice. "You know."

Hawkpaw's eyes narrowed; something seemed wrong about that. "No," he said. "I don't know."

"Of course you do." The tabby rolled her eyes and snorted.

Hawkpaw sniffed the air deeply – odd, he didn't smell the scent of a place far away, with scents of strange, different plants and such.

Just garlic.

Now, what cat just smelled naturally of garlic? A cat trying to cover up their _real_ scent, that's who. And what cat would cover up their real scent if they were just a loner or a rogue?

Eyes widening, Hawkpaw stared at the tabby she-cat. "You're…you're from BloodClan."

If the tabby – the BloodClanner – was surprised, she didn't show it; instead, she smiled. "Yes," she mewed. "I am."

A moment passed.

"Why haven't you attacked me yet?" she asked, the tiniest note of suspicion in her voice.

"Why should I bother?" Hawkpaw meowed back, bitterness entering into his voice as his tone hardened. "I'm foxdung at fighting. Can't do it at all. My Clan might be glad if you abducted me, or killed me, or something like that."

The BloodClanner considered this. "Well, it's not like you would be a good addition to BloodClan," she said at last. "But whatever you say, I'm not letting you alive either. Guess I'll have to–"

Don't you even _dare_, Lemon." A new voice entered the conversation, and Hawkpaw spotted a wiry dark brown tom with a white chest slink out from behind a bush, padding up to the BloodClanner, who appeared to be called Lemon. (Lemon? What a weird name.)

Lemon flicked her ears, then glanced at Hawkpaw. "Why? You heard him; he's a terrible fighter, and he doesn't seem to be that great of a hunter, either."

The brown tom looked at Hawkpaw with an indecipherable expression that seemed as full with feelings as stone; it also seemed to be hard and immovable: also like stone.

After many moments, the BloodClanner's gaze switched to Lemon, and he just stared at her, only a glint in his eyes showing his feelings. "Trust me, Lemon. I would know."

Lemon opened her mouth to say something, then closed it. "Ah. I remember." She turned back to Hawkpaw, who had been watching the two BloodClanners with a fixated stare and narrowed eyes.

"Apparently," she hissed, "my dear acquaintance, Scorn, seems to think you're worth more than some blood on my claws. So–"

Scorn (another odd name) interrupted Lemon, saying, "Let me." Before Lemon could even open her mouth, Scorn went on smoothly, mewing, "We have an inquiry for you. Would you like to join BloodClan?"

Hawkpaw's mouth dropped open. Of all things – he definitely hadn't been expecting _this. _"Did – did I hear you right?" Hawkpaw quavered, tail twitching.

"Yes."

"But – but–"

"You will learn how to fight. You will work hard at it, but you _will _learn how to fight, and you_ will_ have an excellent mentor. I can assure you of that."

Hawkpaw's eyes narrowed as he considered this. This was BloodClan that cat was talking about…but it couldn't be worse than RiverClan, which was home, yeah, but mostly full of cats that didn't care about him. Cats that made a flame full of resentment spark in his chest.

Would BloodClan be like that?

Hawkpaw ignored look before you leap for the first time ever.

"I – I'll join," he whispered, eyes wide.

The BloodClan tom – Scorn – smiled.

"You won't regret it," he hissed.

* * *

No. No. No, no, _no._

Honeydrop raced over to Berrytail, who had just returned to the ThunderClan camp with a vole dangling from his mouth.

"Berrytail," Honeydrop rasped, her voice breathless. "Berrytail…I – I – I…"

The creamy furred tom dropped the piece of prey on the fresh-kill pile, directing his attention to his mate immediately. "What is it, Honeydrop?" he asked, not being a cat to worry as much as his mate.

"Minkkit," Honeydrop whispered, her eyes glassy with held back tears. "I can't find him. He's not anywhere – _anywhere_ – in the camp."

Though one couldn't have seen it, Berrytail's heartbeat quickened, and he began to panic, the only sign of it being a taut jaw.

"Well – it – it happens to most kits. You know, they – go out into the forest and try to catch a mouse, or something like that. Then one of our warriors finds them, they get a stern lecture and a punishment – and – and it's all better." Berrytail ended with a cracked tone to his voice on the last word, as he breathed in deeply.

"But – what if–" Honeydrop didn't need to finish her sentence. Berrytail knew. What if he had just somehow gotten the same fate as their little Ferretpaw – but unwillingly.

It seemed impossible, but if one had suggested to Honeydrop and Berrytail when Ferretpaw was a kit that what would happen to him would happen to him, they would have wondered if that cat that said such a thing to them had ate a bit – more than a bit – too much prey.

Better safe than never.

"Bramblestar!" Berrytail ran over to his former mentor, who was currently basking in the sun in the middle of camp next to his mate, Squirrelflight. The dark brown tabby tom stretched and clumsily rose, still blinking a bit. "What is it, Berrytail?" he asked.

Berrytail explained the situation, and Brambleclaw's brow furrowed more and more as he heard.

Search parties were sent out. Minkkit was called for. The forest was scoured. They asked dawn patrols from WindClan and ShadowClan if they had spotted a small brown tom kit. They hadn't.

Minkkit was gone.

* * *

Weaselfur sat at the edge of WindClan camp, watching the sun set. The pale blue color of the sky was changing into brilliant pink and orange hues, as long, skinny clouds seemed to blend into the colors until you couldn't tell where clouds ended and the colors of the sunset began. Much of the sun could still be seen, but the ginger warrior knew soon there would only be a sliver left, and after that, nothing.

But Weaselfur wasn't sitting there only to gaze at the sunset, something he could to perfectly well in the middle of the open WindClan camp. He shouldn't have been letting the sunset's beauty occupy him anyway. What _should_ be occupying his mind – and what had been, ever since before the first hints of sunset had came – was his apprentice, Sedgepaw.

This was a strange new feeling for him about Sedgepaw, because if any apprentice needed to be worried about, it definitely wasn't Sedgepaw. Sedgepaw generally acted quiet and modest, with never a hair out of place among her smooth brown fur or a moment late to camp after a hunting mission. Weaselfur's fellow mentors would often jokingly complain how they had all got the short end of the stick with apprentices. Weaselfur would just smile back.

But right now Sedgepaw wasn't living up to her usual reliability. She should have been back at WindClan camp a long time ago, far before the sunset would start, and at the latest, just a bit before the first hints of sunset came along into the sky.

Weaselfur glanced at the sunset again. It was well into it now, and the sun was rapidly disappearing, bit by bit. He stared out into the horizon, searching for a moving figure in the distance.

He stared a bit more. Sighing, he knew his eyes were definitely not playing tricks on him, and he still saw no moving figu – wait! What was that?

"Hey, Weaselfur!" Mistpaw chirped, her mew muffled because of the fresh moss that was clamped between her teeth. Dropping the moss, she licked a paw and mewed, "I just got back from getting more moss for the elders – they just got some new moss a couple days ago, but you know Tornear, so Breezepelt ordered me to get some more. She scowled. "Breezepelt is so bossy, don't you think?"

"Yes, I do," Weaselfur murmured a bit distractedly, a slightly disappointed look on his face as he continued to stare off into the distance.

Mistpaw wrinkled her nose and looked at Weaselfur. "What are you doing?" she asked, beginning to pick up the fresh moss again.

"Sedgepaw isn't back yet," Weaselfur responded, as he looked at the WindClan territory harder.

"That's odd," Mistpaw muttered. "She's always the first one back, because she's so efficient." Shrugging, Mistpaw added, "See you later, Weaselfur…" and strolled into WindClan camp, moss in tow.

Weaselfur sighed and continued to look into the distance. A couple moments later, he looked at the sunset again.

Only the faintest sliver of sun was left.

He sighed again and sat on the grassy hill, continuing to wait for Sedgepaw.

Time passed. Eventually, Weaselfur looked up at the sky again. The sun had set, and the sky was gradually beginning to darken and give way to a dusky twilight.

The WindClan warrior felt a gravelly rumbling in his stomach, but ignored it. He vowed to himself he would not get fresh-kill from the fresh-kill pile until Sedgepaw came back from her hunting mission.

Twilight turned to night, and soon it was moonhigh, the sliver of moon casting a faint light on the hills. Night turned to midnight, and the only light came from the moon and the stars. Weaselfur ignored his stomach rumbles, ignored the calls from his Clanmates to come in and eat and sleep, ignored the apprentices and other WindClanners asking if he had seen Sedgepaw. His sharp eyes scoured WindClan territory for a long time, and he did not see the shape of Sedgepaw.

Sedgepaw was Sedgepaw; Weaselfur knew she would come back to WindClan camp.

Eventually.

And for the first time in his life, Weaselfur was completely, totally, and utterly wrong.

* * *

Sedgepaw watched countless BloodClan cats gather around the Scraphill, milling about and discussing what this meeting was about, and all saying it was probably a ceremony for a BloodClan recruit. The brown she-cat spotted some queens and kits near the back of the crowd, and even some cranky looking elders. Of course, there were also many, many warriors, not to mention apprentices like her. Sedgepaw sniffed the air, and even thought she had gotten a whiff of herbs – a sure sign there were cats like the medicine cats in the Clans there, too. Sedgepaw widened her eyes, amazed. It was just like a normal Clan, except with many more cats, and many more cats in each part of the Clan – especially the warriors. Besides that, the fact they lived in a giant Twolegplace (or, as Scrape told her it was called, a _city_), and that their names didn't consist of two parts, one could just call BloodClan a regular Clan, a Clan that could be grouped with RiverClan, WindClan, ShadowClan, and ThunderClan without the speaker stuttering over its name or going strangely quiet.

It reminded Sedgepaw a lot of the meetings Onestar usually held – except for that there were many, many more cats and the leader, Heat, sat on pile of Twoleg junk called the Scraphill, instead of what Onestar stood upon, the Tallrock. Sedgepaw had to admit what Onestar stood upon was better, but considering BloodClan lived in a place for Twolegs, it was lucky Heat had found such a big, convenient place for the BloodClanners.

Sedgepaw's ears stayed pricked for a while as she listened to the BloodClanners talk. She soon found it was just like ordinary Clan talk: gossip, things about other Clans, current happenings in the Clan, and stuff like that. Letting her ears relax, she sat down behind the Scraphill and waited for Heat to call her up, her tail curled around her paws. As he was the one who had persuaded her to join BloodClan, the BloodClanner Scrape, a golden brown tom with traces of ginger, sat with her.

"This reminds me of when I became an apprentice in WindClan," Sedgepaw mewed, reminiscing. "I had been so excited, and I was jumping around like a squirrel. My tail wouldn't stop moving, until my mother joked she might have to clamp it down to the ground…"

"I'm one of the BloodClan members who had been born into this Clan," Scrape mewed, watching Heat's back and she sat and waited for the last of BloodClan to filter in. "I wasn't the only one to be apprenticed that day – it's very uncommon for only one cat to be apprenticed in one day, since there are so many of us. You're an exception"

"And now, I'm getting apprenticed for the second time," Sedgepaw murmured, staring up at Heat. "It all seems so odd."

Scrape opened his mouth, possibly to say some words of assurance, but then Heat began to speak, her voice filling the clearing as all cats went silent, the only sounds besides Heat's mew being the swishing of tails, occasional scratches in the ground, and other such actions.

"Greetings, fellow BloodClanners," Heat mewed. Many murmurs of "Greetings" were mewed back, disorderly and more like a jumble of gibberish than one short word.

"I have called you to the Scraphill today," Heat continued, "for another apprentice ceremony. Like with the last new apprentice, this cat is from the Clans – WindClan, to be precise. For this new recruit, we must thank and congratulate Scrape, a BloodClanner of the fourth order of warriors.

"I have to go up now," Scrape muttered to Sedgepaw, and he dashed up the Scraphill, walking up to Heat. He sat down a couple tail-lengths away from her, as a show of respect.

"Scrape! Scrape! Scrape!" the BloodClanners cheered, congratulating the tom on his victory of convincing Sedgepaw to join BloodClan.

Scrape bowed his head and then leaped off the Scraphill, joining a particular place in the crowd of BloodClanners – the space for warriors of the fourth order.

"Now, Sedgepaw, come up," Heat meowed, directing her piercing amber gaze at Sedgepaw. Rather awkwardly, Sedgepaw padded up the Scraphill and stood a few tail-lengths away from Heat, trying to ignore the stares of all the BloodClanners. It was even worse than her apprentice ceremony when she was six moons old; at least there hadn't been at least as many cats as the other four Clans combined, like it was here in BloodClan.

"Sedgepaw, do you vow to give up all your ties to your former Clan and loyalties? Do you vow to commit yourself to your leader and your new Clan, BloodClan?"

"I do," Sedgepaw mewed, happy that the words had come out smoothly without a single stammer.

"Sedgepaw, you have now shed your former loyalties. Now, do you promise to shed your last trace of your former home – your Clan name?"

This time, Sedgepaw stuttered. "Y – yes, I promise."

Heat smirked. "Excellent. You have now shed your last tie of all to the other Clans. Sedgepaw, you are now Sedge, apprentice of BloodClan."

Sedgepaw – no, now she was Sedge – shivered a bit. She had always had a second part to her name, faithful and always there. First it was –kit, then it was –paw, and if she had stayed at WindClan long enough to become a warrior, it would have been one of a whole variety; maybe –fur or –pelt, or –claw or –flower, or –tail or –foot…Sedge had no idea. But now, there was just a big blank where that second part had once been. Now she was simply Sedge.

"Sedge, your mentor will be Quartz, a warrior of the second order of BloodClan warriors."

A white warrior surfaced from the front of the crowd and came up on the Scraphill. Sedge almost touched Quartz's nose, but when she saw her new mentor didn't put his head forward, she guessed it wasn't a tradition in BloodClan. Instead, he bowed his head. She bowed it, too, and from the look in Heat's eyes, Sedge knew she had done it right.

"Sedge! Sedge! Sedge!" the cats all yowled, mouths wide open and tails thwapping the ground with delight. Astonishingly, Sedge recognized one, a light golden brown she-cat who looked around her own age. It was Pricklepaw! The fellow former WindClan apprentice had disappeared a long time ago, with a loner called Dandelion. Most had assumed that Pricklepaw had either been forced to go with Dandelion or had decided Clanlife was not for her, and left with Dandelion. But she had gone to BloodClan – now it seemed obvious.

"BloodClanners, you may disperse," Heat said over the shouting. Once all the cats quieted down and walked out of the clearing, Heat turned to Sedge.

"Welcome to BloodClan, Sedge," Heat whispered, her amber eyes narrowed and gleaming.

Sedge nodded. She was now a BloodClanner.

* * *

It happened several times.

"Welcome to BloodClan, Mink."

"Welcome to BloodClan, Prickle."

"Welcome to BloodClan, Hawk."

"Welcome to BloodClan, Slash."

"Welcome to BloodClan, Spark."

"Welcome to BloodClan, Flame."

Welcome to BloodClan. Welcome to BloodClan. Welcome to BloodClan.

Welcome to BloodClan, indeed.

* * *

Bramblestar, Blackstar, Mistystar, and Onestar sat on the branches of a huge tree, while their deputies Cinderheart, Russetfur, Reedwhisker, and Ashfoot sat at the roots. The cats of RiverClan, ShadowClan, ThunderClan, and WindClan all sat facing the tree, gossiping, talking, and whispering among themselves, as BloodClan was late.

The conversations went on and on, and behind the veneer of friendliness and light banter, the cats became worried and pensive. Where was BloodClan? Had something horrible happened? Had they finally given up with interacting with the true four Clans? No Clan should be this late, even if they lived far away in a Twolegplace…

Finally, the leaders couldn't take it anymore. BloodClan was _too_ late, and the Gathering would go on without them. Besides, the Clans could take advantage of their lateness, to complain about what BloodClan's presence was inflicting on ordinary Clanlife.

"Something odd – very odd – has happened these past few moons," Mistystar mewed, her claws digging into the branch. "Am I the only one who has had a couple of my apprentices and RiverClan kits disappear?"

Blackstar's eyes narrowed. "Apparently," he said grimly, "no. I have had apprentices return from hunting missions and out to make dirt and never come back; I have had lost or hurt loners to come and when they leave have kits disappear with them."

Onestar pawed the branch he was perched on. "This has happened to me too, Mistystar and Blackstar. A loner called Dandelion came to my Clan, claiming to be lost and coming from a place where she only hunted fish. A few days later when she didn't need to stay any longer, an apprentice called Pricklepaw never came back to WindClan camp once. And she wasn't the only one."

Bramblestar sighed. "Obviously, I have also had the same troubling case. For example, like many kits are wont to do, Minkkit escaped from the protection of the nursery, perhaps to attempt to catch a piece of prey. Did he come back? No – and after a couple more disappearances and what you three have spoken of, I highly doubt he was killed by a badger or fox."

"But why have they disappeared? Obviously they haven't just left of their own will; who–or what–has taken them?

"BloodClan," Mistystar hissed, as a loud scraping sound filled the ears of the leaders. Mistystar had dug into her branch a little too much, and it was now barely hanging by a couple twigs. Standing with light paws on the branch, Mistystar moved like a slug, paws placed in a painstakingly exact way as she walked, to a part of the branch nearer to the trunk. "BloodClan," she repeated, blue eyes narrowing. "I'm sure of it – it's just like them, to steal the lifeblood of our Clans and brainwash them into BloodClan warriors. BloodClan isn't a normal Clan; they want nothing more than to spite us, to kill us, to destroy us. They want to be the only Clan around, and they want power over us – but of course they'll do it in a sneaky, underhanded, and completely _BloodClan_ way."

Bramblestar's brow furrowed and his amber eyes started to narrow as he began to think about what Mistystar had said. Onestar swished his tail and meowed, "You're right! BloodClan was a cruel and evil Clan when we battled them when Scourge was their leader, and they are still the same way."

All the Clan cats meowed their assent, some with narrowed eyes and moving tails: the ones more intolerant of BloodClan, and also perhaps the cats who had fought in that battle so many moons ago.

"BloodClan isn't right!" yowled a ThunderClan cat. "There wasn't a Blood along with Thunder, Shadow, River, and Wind! The old territory wasn't divided into five, and nor is this one! They do not have true names and they live in a place meant for Twolegs! Is that what StarClan would have given a _true_ Clan?!"

"No!" another cat shouted, this one bearing WindClan scent. "_We_ are the ones in the Clans that River, Wind, Shadow, and Thunder started – not them. _We_ are the ones who were told by StarClan to travel to a new territory – not them. _We_ are the ones with Clan traditions that have been kept since the time of the first leaders – not them. They have experienced none of it, and _we_, the true Clans, have!"

"You're right!" another WindClanner yowled. "In fact, why is BloodClan here if StarClan did not make them, if they weren't told to come here by StarClan? The only similarity they have to us is that their name ends in –Clan! Without that, they're just a bunch of mean rogues!

"StarClan!" a ShadowClan she-cat snorted. "If BloodClan isn't right because of _StarClan_ – and believe me, it's not only because of that that BloodClan is just wrong – then why hasn't StarClan interfered? Why didn't StarClan send clouds to cover the moon at the first Gathering they appeared? Why hasn't StarClan come to Heat in a dream and commanded her to stop bothering the real Clans?"

"Yes – why hasn't StarClan interfered?" a RiverClanner questioned, green eyes narrowing. "Are – are they saying that BloodClan is _right_? That they're as much of a Clan as _us?"_

"If so, StarClan's going insane!" one ThunderClan tom snarled, pawing the ground with paws that looked like they would unsheathe their claws any second.

After such a declaration, chaos broke out and many cats began yowling about what they thought about this: "How dare you say StarClan is insane! They are our esteemed ancestors!" "How can StarClan even imply BloodClan is as good as us? That's just wrong!" and other such opinions.

Bramblestar sighed. "If BloodClan had never come and tried to join us as a fifth Clan, we would not be arguing and shouting among ourselves. Apprentices and kits would not be missing. Firestar would not be dead. So much would be for the better…"

The other three leaders nodded with agreement, while their warriors continued to squabble and argue about BloodClan.

Blackstar's eyes narrowed, and his paws gripped the branch he was perched on tighter and tighter. Finally, he yowled, "All of you! Stop!" His screech resounded in the clearing, and every cat quieted down, looking with luminous eyes on Blackstar.

"Look at you!" he hissed. "Quarreling like immature little kits! Yes, BloodClan is definitely not doing anything for the better for us Clans. Yes, StarClan seems to have left us upon the matter of BloodClan. Yes, BloodClan may well be not a true Clan. But that does _not_ give you all the right to screech and whine and forget the meaning of the word dignity. Well?"

Not one cat spoke.

"I think we have settled things for now," Blackstar said coldly, looking with heavy lidded eyes at the crowd of Clan cats. "Now, are we done with this…pre-Gathering?"

All cats nodded.

Blackstar gave a curt nod. "Good."

After the Clan cats had settled down, a small and agile BloodClan cat dashed away to tell what had happened to Heat, who had decided that cats would certainly be angry with her Clan after recent events.

Once again, Heat was right, causing many of the BloodClanners to wonder – once again – how Heat sometimes seemed more than a normal cat. And they knew they would wonder this many more times in the future.

* * *

**A/N: Ahahaha, you're all mad at me, aren't you? I'm really sorry, but I couldn't split this into two chapters. Besides, I didn't even end at the place I was going to. What was going to be the ending will now be in Chapter 13 instead, so it could be a bit shorter as I'm sure you'd already be annoyed at me for this super long chapter enough; it's 47 pages double spaced on Microsoft Word and exactly 12900 words. x.x. Well, that's what Word says. FFNet always says something different. **

**Constructive criticism appreciated.**


	15. Chapter 13

**Customary apologies apply, 'cept for that I have no real reason for not putting this up sooner, as I wrote the outline for it back in May. I was procrastinating for no real reason at all.**

**Anyway. This chapter will not be as long as the last one. Promise.**

**On another note: FFNet would not save my chapter with its own spacers (I tried three times), so I had to use 'xx'. I'm sorry if that bothers you.**

Chapter 13

A crowd of BloodClan cats walked into the clearing, Heat at their head. Looking a little less neat than usual, she scrabbled up the tree and jumped onto a branch, licking a rough ginger paw.

"So sorry for being late," Heat mewed, her voice slightly breathless. "I had some issues to resolve with some of my Clan cats."

No response. Many pairs of eyes – amber, green, blue, yellow – stared up at her, considerably more distrusting after the pre-gathering.

The silence continued to suffocate the clearing for a few more moments, as Heat licked and smoothed down spiky, tufted bits of fur, picking out the occasional speck of dirt. Soon she looked just as neat as usual, dark ginger fur smoothed down and clean.

"So," she mewed, amber eyes directed toward the other four leaders, "who would like to go first?"

Blackstar flicked his ears and stood up from his perch. "I will," he said curtly. His stance was as normal as ever for him: slightly stiffened and never completely relaxed. Mistystar shot him a look out of narrowed eyes, the meaning clear: do not mention the disappearances.

Just barely flicking his ears in understanding, Blackstar gave the Clans his usual: ShadowClan is thriving, the prey is plentiful, so on and so forth. After he finished, he gave Heat a quick glance, which she returned, whiskers twitching.

Then came Mistystar and Onestar, who also gave news signifying that they were perfectly fine, thank you very much. The Clan cats all paid perfect attention to the leaders, with not one glare or mutter or tail swish, something rare. Instead, luminous eyes all stared at the leaders perched on the tree, as if being quiet and still was their biggest goal at the moment. Perhaps it was.

And second-to-last, stepping forward before Heat could say anything, was Bramblestar. Like the other three Clan leaders, he began with reports of good prey, apprentices' progress, and ThunderClan doing well.

Oakbranch gulped and attempted to continue to watch Bramblestar with almost frightening intensity, like every other Clan cat, but Oakbranch had agreed to let Bramblestar tell the other Clans about his...little adventure, to put it mildly, just because he didn't want to seem intimidated by other Clans' opinions.

"A very odd thing happened to one of my Clan cats, Oakbranch, this past moon," Bramblestar meowed. "During his sleep, Oakbranch was bound up with plants and sticky sap by a group of cats who apparently blamed him for Firestar's death. He was dragged through ThunderClan territory to the middle of nowhere and left there for days without prey or liquid. We could do nothing, as we couldn't find him anywhere. Oakbranch was freed by a wandering loner who took apart the binding plants and sap and gave him prey and mouthfuls of water, waiting until Oakbranch was well-fed; then he left him, leaving it to Oakbranch to find his own way back to ThunderClan and clean himself up."

Oakbranch winced slightly as Bramblestar said the words "wandering loner." So it had not been a loner but a BloodClan cat (and his own brother at that), but so what? No one could ever know the truth...

"I have not been able to discover who these cats that abducted Oakbranch were, and, if one of them was actually from another Clan, I urge you to confess to your leader, whether it be right now or after the Gathering. You must be aware that you have caused great damage to an innocent ThunderClan cat, and one who may have died, if not for the kind loner that helped him.

"I am done with my news; you may speak, Heat."

Oakbranch sighed, already feeling guilty for not letting Scorn's identity as his rescuer known. His jaw tightening, he pawed the ground and whapped his tail on the ground several times.

"Thank you, Bramblestar," Heat purred, looking at the crowd of Clan cats. Her amber eyes studied the clearing for some time until they came to rest on Oakbranch.

Sucking in a breath, Oakbranch kept his head down, not looking at Heat, though he knew she was at him. _I have no reason to be panicked right now,_ he thought to himself, swallowing. _I don't even know why I am. The last time I even came face to face with her was when she killed Firestar._

After several moments, or what seemed like it to Oakbranch, he looked up–

–and met Heat's calculating amber eyes.

A shiver running up his spine, Oakbranch felt the sudden urge to turn tail and run all the way back to ThunderClan camp. Heat's gaze had that kind of effect.

"BloodClan, like all the other Clans, has been thriving," Heat mewed, smiling. "We have found recruits far from our home, and they are happily accumulating to their new life. Like always, we have plenty of prey to fulfill our hunger, and we currently have no troubles to speak of."

_Well, that's nice, _Oakbranch thought, nose wrinkling and eyes squinting. His steady gaze at Heat – just like every other Clan cat's – held just a hint of a glare. As if reprimanding him, Oakbranch emitted a tiny mewl as a pang ripped in his stomach, making him bend over.

_Stupid cramps,_ he thought, a sigh escaping from the side of his mouth.

Not bothering to pay attention to the rest of Heat's Clan report, Oakbranch instead focused on not letting the BloodClan leader meet his eyes one more time whatsoever. She could figure out things just by glancing at cats...To echo his thoughts and his feelings, a breeze whipped around his fur, leaving it messy and bristling.

"...And that's it."

Onestar glanced at the shining moon; no clouds lay near it, as no clouds were in the night sky. "So, the Gathering is over?"

Bramblestar nodded, jumped off the tree branch, and landed with his tail up in the air, claws sinking into cold earth. With a flick of his tail, the ThunderClanners, including Oakbranch, moved from their spots, following their leader back to ThunderClan territory. Mistystar echoed his actions, and the RiverClanners followed, their smooth and sleek dark pelts giving the appearance of rippling water. Onestar and Blackstar went their separate ways too, the WindClanners bounding away in swift steps, and the ShadowClanners slipping away through the trees.

After all the other Clans had crossed to the rest of the lake territory, the BloodClanners left last, melting into the woods on the island as if they had never been.

xx

"Stop," hissed Heat, as she sat down on her haunches on top of the Scraphill. "Did I say you could all leave?"

BloodClanners in the third order, about to leave for their respective dens, turned around, narrowed eyes glaring at the ground as they sat down once again in one almost simultaneous movement. Having just been snapped at by their leader for slacking on their duties, the discussion was not something they wanted to lengthen, and the cats were feeling tired enough already by listening to what they'd done wrong and attempting to figure out if Heat was amused by their consternation or not.

"Thank you," Heat mewed, though she did not sound grateful at all, but had the stiff tone of someone who was angry and was trying to restrain it but not putting their whole effort into the process. "Sparrow, Dash, Spark, get the rest of the BloodClanners to the Scraphill."

Three wiry cats – one brown, one black, one ginger – flicked their ears in response and padded away, their simple walk somehow quick; within moments, they could not be seen from the Scraphill.

A heavy, suffocating silence settled over the BloodClanners, most of whom seemed to be swishing their tails, glaring at the ground. Cats that had been muttering to themselves spoke quieter and quieter, until their mutters petered off into nothing and the silence pressed down more, stronger from another victory. Finally the three cats, Sparrow, Dash, and Spark, came back, annoyed looking cats with frowns and suspicious eyes slinking in behind them and sitting down in the respective places of their orders.

As soon as they were all settled and gazing expectantly up at Heat, the she-cat stood up, mewing, "Those of you who were at the Gathering last night may know what I am about to say. At the Gathering, Bramblestar, leader of ThunderClan" – here noses wrinkled, eyes narrowed, snorts abounded – "told about a Clan cat of his, Oakbranch – we all recognize that name, don't we?–"

_Oh, what's he done this time?_ Scorn's nose wrinkled as he sighed and glared at the ground as if it were Oakbranch himself, staring up at him with that really irritating, nonplussed expression.

"Well, the cat got himself tied up and left in the middle of nowhere for days, because, like all ThunderClanners, he wouldn't know the meaning of fighting if it went up and stole his whiskers–"

Snickers. Scorn's whiskers twitched, but he didn't really care about the jibes at ThunderClan and its thirst for diplomacy and peace, never fighting; he just wanted to hear what his fool brother had done.

"–and, then, some 'kind, wandering loner' found him, freed him, and gave him prey and water."

Scorn dearly wished to kick this wandering loner, preferably in a place that would make the experience stay near the front of said loner's mind.

Here Heat's ever-amused smirk slid from her face and was replaced with her grim, more serious look – as serious as it could get, as there was always a sense of condescending amusement tucked away somewhere within her expression, as if she wanted you to come and find it. "As you have all learned long ago under my lead, eyes tell everything." On cue, her amber eyes gleamed, and several cats reacted appropriately, whether it was to shiver, to glare, or to swallow and avoid Heat's gaze.

"ThunderClanners aren't taught to shield their feelings in their expressions. Eyes can scream as well as a mouth can. It was obvious by his panicked look that no 'wandering loner' or anything else near that had saved him. It was obvious by his eyes looking everywhere else than me immediately that the lie was a big one, and worth it to hide. If so, then who had freed him, and why was it so important to keep it secret?

"The answer? One of us."

Scorn gaped. A BloodClanner had saved his brother? That kick was starting to get more and more deserved.

Heat's gaze traveled over and each and every BloodClanner, her amber eyes turning into chips of ice, though the color was a far cry from blue. "Every BloodClanner is here. The culprit is sitting here right now. All they need to do now...is own up."

Her words did not need an echo to make them sound significant.

xx

"Mrmmffr. Mff. Rrrmm." Oakbranch swallowed another bite of his squirrel, his second piece of prey. By the time he had taken another few appreciative bites, the squirrel had been finished, and, though Oakbranch was smiling in satisfaction, his amber eyes seemed to direct themselves to the fresh-kill pile automatically, the gesture accentuated with a small stomach rumble. Beginning to stretch and get up for a third piece, his fur prickled as he felt a gaze burning into him from behind.

Turning around, Oakbranch found the gaze belonged to a pair of blue eyes, just as he'd expected. Groaning a bit, he said, "What's your problem now, Specklewing?"

Specklewing looked pointedly at the plump mouse Oakbranch was eyeing. "Can't you count?" she mewed, rolling her eyes.

"I realize perfectly well what I'm doing," Oakbranch responded, not even sparing the she-cat a glance.

"You mean you realize perfectly well that you're about to eat your third piece of prey in a row today?" Specklewing mewed, her trademark expression of skepticism on her face. She sniffed and watched Oakbranch pick up the mouse through slitted eyes, not trying to disguise her disgust. As Oakbranch bit into it, Specklewing sighed and said, "Last time I checked, bloating yourself with prey wasn't very healthy. You've been doing it since you got back. At this rate, you'll be fat in a moon."

No response came, and there would have been silence if not for the sounds of Oakbranch chewing up his bites of mouse and the scraps of conversation from other ThunderClanners in the camp. Specklewing waited, her mouth in a thin, straight line, head rested on her dainty paws, a far cry from her actual nature. Her tail swishing, the ginger tip looked like a blurry flame dancing in the air.

"Well?"

Swallowing, Oakbranch turned toward Specklewing, finally saying, "As I said, I know what I'm doing, Specklewing. I spent _days_ tied up with no prey to eat or water to drink. I need to eat more so that I can get used to eating every day again, and this is the way to do it. I doubt I'll get fat from overeating a bit for a few sunrises."

As he said this, Oakbranch felt the urge to double over as a small cramp pierced his stomach. Holding still and stiff for a couple moments, he managed to only twitch a bit, and sat down.

She didn't seem to be wholly convinced. "Fine," she said, her blue eyes still burning into Oakbranch. "Keep the overeating to only a couple days; you're not Leafpool or Sleetpaw."

"Sleetpaw's only been medicine cat for barely two moons," Oakbranch muttered, dipping his head to take another bite of his mouse. He shook a bit, tail waving around, but went taut almost as soon as he stopped shaking, looking completely steady.

Specklewing snorted, rolled her eyes, and began to walk away, but slowly enough for her to meow, "Why don't you go on a hunting mission to find more prey to pig out on? Get some exercise. Slow down your fattening. "

Wrinkling his nose, Oakbranch scowled and watched Specklewing walk over to Birchfall and his apprentice, Frostpaw, probably to help the light brown tom train Frostpaw.

Oakbranch watched the three cats pad over to the fighting clearing; that is, until Specklewing somehow noticed him, turned around, and smirked at him.

"Oh, whatever," he hissed under his breath, and left ThunderClan camp to go and hunt.

xx

The forest in ThunderClan territory felt fresh and peaceful. Sunlight streamed in through the gnarly brown branches of the trees, and blossoming flowers dotted the prickly grass, providing fresh flames of color for the eye to rest on when it got tired of brown and green. The branches on the trees were still pretty bare, but new leaves had begun to appear hanging down from them, and these were given loud welcomes from the chattery birds that perched on the twigs and branches, all of whom had started plucking them to use as parts of nests. If one looked closely, they could see the tranquil blue sky, thin, feathery white clouds floating across it here and there.

Yes, it was a very pretty newleaf so far, not that Oakbranch cared. This would be because he was busy hunting for plenty of prey to bring back to ThunderClan camp, so that he could have more to "pig out on," in Specklewing's words.

Or because he was too busy trying not to pay attention to yet another cramp piercing and ripping through his stomach.

They had started out small, just occasional twinges and slightly-worse-than-twinges that interrupted him just as he was about to leap and pin down a mouse or rabbit, the kind that made Oakbranch set his jaw in a moment and squint his eyes as he muttered, "Foxdung," and had to go in search of another choice of prey. Then came the ones that could make you double over, but could be resisted, and the ones that made Oakbranch take deep breaths with an almost closed mouth and stiffen, trying not to double over or feel the pain.

And then...

Oakbranch's mouth was wide open, heaving and yearning for great mouthfuls of air, as if trying to suck it all out of the world for himself, his breathing quick and panting as he laid on the ground, writhing and kicking up clods of dirt and messing up his fur. Huge, painful cramps, so painful they seemed to reach out from inside his body and out into the air, ripped and pierced him, making him mewl like a pathetic little kit, because he couldn't summon up the strength to scream. Those moments of merely _buckling down_ under the pain were long gone and seemed as nice as being stretched out sleeping in the warriors' den, similar to the contempt held for a cat whining about the pang of the thorn in their paw when you yourself have survived a crippling injury.

And, of course, he had just had to have gone to the far edge of ThunderClan territory, because, as he missed more and more prey, he had had to move farther and farther. That thought kept on cropping up in his mind as he tried to gain the energy to actually yowl, so some cat would hear him and take him to camp to Leafpool...

As he heaved for breath again, Oakbranch opened his mouth wide and tried to scream and yowl as piercingly loud as he could, to undermine the torture the cramps were wreaking on him, to show he was strong – to just make the pain and even-more-than-buckling-worthy cramps stop–

And a mewl clawed out of his mouth, the sound equivalent to a withered, frayed leaf that had been beaten up as much as it could by kits who considered it a great feline enemy worth tackling hundreds of times.

This was his fault, Oakbranch knew, eyes closed and squinted, jaw so tight his teeth hurt. It was the eating too much that had done this, and Specklewing was right...for all Oakbranch knew, his stomach had grown used to no food, and overeating so much in just a few days had made his body react with...cramps far more painful than any battle injury. Why couldn't he just die yet? It would be better than continuing to suffer through never ending cramps that lashed out at him as often as they could.

Unlike before, as the cramps dragged on and on, stinging Oakbranch's stomach and leaving him curled up like a kit on the ground with faint twitches and occasional stretches of long writhings on the ground, the mewl dragged along with it, stretching thinner and thinner as Oakbranch shook, shudders involuntarily occurring. It seemed impossible, but the cramps continued to hurt more and more, and worse and worse, leaving Oakbranch grinding his teeth and trying to be as taut and still as he could, something that had inevitable failure as its future.

Finally, the cramps got so terrible Oakbranch couldn't find any strength inside him to even move or writhe or shake. An almost wistful sigh escaped his mouth like a breeze, a sign of his giving up. Oakbranch lay nestled among the grass out in ThunderClan territory, fated once again to have the unluckiness of not being found as cramps tortured his body from the inside, driving him to the point of insanity. Soon Oakbranch found himself hanging off the edge, blank blue sky surrounding him except for the twig he was clutching on to.

Hours passed, as Oakbranch switched between staring at both choices and as electrifying pain continued to delight itself in his body.

Oakbranch's paws began to slip, but then the cramps began to decrease at a sluggish pace, oozing away, hesitant to stop their fun. As they ebbed, Oakbranch's claws dug deeper into the branch, and he hung on more tightly than ever, putting the temptations of empty sky behind him, though it still stayed at the back of his mind.

But most of his body dangled into the expanse of pale blue sky, and that could not be ignored.

Oakbranch's eyes snapped open, and he clawed control of his mind. He had to go back to ThunderClan camp, go to Leafpool, get help...

His legs tottering and the cramps now an everlasting sting in his body, resisting the urge to collapse at once, Oakbranch slapped one leg in front of the other, lumbering out of his spot at the edge of ThunderClan territory, trying to get to ThunderClan camp.

The wrong way.

xx

Two young humans were strolling aimlessly between Hare Hill Woods and the outskirts of the city, having found themselves with nothing to do on the balmy spring day. One of them, tall and a bit lanky, gazed at the pale blue sky with a slightly dreamy expression, his blue eyes near the same shade of the sky. The other, a bit shorter, had an expression on his face that suggested he was the more down-to-earth, observant one, and sure enough, it was he who saw the dark shape on the ground a few feet ahead and exclaimed, "What's that?"

Like a bird gently winging its way down to earth, the tall boy looked at his friend. "What are you talking about, Daniel?" he said, squinting in the distance.

Daniel snorted. "You would know if you had brought your glasses." Jogging up ahead, he bent down and inspected the dark shape, touching it lightly. "It's...it's a cat! One of those ferals, I think," he added, dark brown hair falling down past his forehead.

The tall boy scratched his tousled brown head of hair and strolled over, peering at without bending down. "It looks dead," he scoffed, hands in his pockets.

Daniel rolled the brown cat over and put a hand on its chest. "It's alive," he said. "Unconscious, I guess." He began to stand up, but then bent down again.

"What?" said the tall boy, his eyebrows furrowing in impatience as he fidgeted. "It's just some cat."

Daniel shrugged. "We should take it to that junkyard at the edge of the city," he said, starting to pick up the cat. "I've seen cats there before. Might as well. 'S not like we're going anywhere anyway."

The tall boy made a noncommittal noise. "Fine. Lets go, then."

Hoisting the unconscious feral over his shoulders, Daniel walked over to his friend, and they headed to the junkyard, dumping the cat a few yards behind a pile of junk, where there were no cats currently, but there would be.

So Oakbranch was now in the junkyard. A place better known to cats as the Scraphill.

What kind of cats? BloodClan.

xx

"Well? I thought you would all know it's always much better for your instant future to confess your misdeeds than keep them to yourself and let me and others discover them." Heat's clear, light voice rang out across the clearing, sounding far too clear and light and cheerful to actually be so.

_Come on!_ Scorn thought, digging his paw into the dust. _Let the rest of us get back to what we were doing..._

"Yes, Whirl?" Heat's gaze turned to a spotted cat a few tail-lengths away from Scorn who was sitting upright with perfect posture and his tail curled neatly around his paws. Scorn's eyes narrowed slightly and he sneered a bit; he found Whirl to be insufferable, but as they were both in the fourth order of BloodClan cats, Scorn saw the tom more often than he liked.

Whirl did not show any signs of nervousness, which Scorn had to concede was brave of him; he was not a weakling who shivered every time Heat spoke.

"I just remembered – not so long ago, while a group of us were out looking for BloodClan recruits, we saw this cat all bound up and looking more like some dead, mutated thing than a cat."

Scorn frowned; he had been with Whirl and other BloodClanners in his order for a while looking to recruit cats, but he did not remember seeing Oakbranch all bound up; if he had, he definitely would have remembered something like that, or given him something to remember. Nevertheless, his fur on his neck prickled, and he felt rather strange, as if his mind was trying to tell him something important.

"We started to...play with it," Whirl added, accentuating the remark with a momentary snicker.

"Oh yeah!" another voice piped up, this one belonging to a dirty, scraggly cat. "I remember that! It was fun..."

"But then Alana and a few others got us to stop," yet another cat growled, his face twisted into a scowl.

Frowning again, Scorn wondered why everyone was remembering this except him. He did faintly remember going out in the middle of nowhere and not finding any recruits, but nothing besides that that had to do with Oakbranch or his location.

"Very...interesting," Heat mewed in a crisp tone, eyes narrowed. "Was that all? By torturing Oakbranch, did you accidentally free him?"

Whirl blinked, then glared at the two cats that had interrupted him, hissing faintly. "No," he meowed, his tone close to a hiss. "After that we just left, since there were no recruits."

"Yeah, but we were stalled a bit," said the dirty cat, interrupting Whirl again and ignoring the glare that was shot toward her by him. "Scorn had to make dirt or something."

Huh? He had to make dirt? Oh yes, he had; Scorn had a dim memory of fidgeting a bit under the group leader's eye and telling him he had to go and make dirt.

Heat stiffened, her amber eyes icy. "He did?"

"Uh, yeah," said the she-cat, quailing under Heat's cold gaze.

"But it took a long time," Whirl said quickly, taking the pause to regain his position as the one telling Heat.

"What, you mean Scorn's making dirt?"

Whirl nodded. "Yeah. He said afterward it was a 'long one', but it was _really_ long. I mean, _really._ And then he said he also went hunting because he was hungry, but I remember he stuttered and said it a little awkwardly."

"I see." Heat's voice rivaled the hard iciness and coldness of an icicle, to the point of being able to beat one.

Scorn began to feel strangely cold, his heartbeat speeding up. What was happening? Why didn't he remember this? Surely they weren't implying...

Heat turned to him, her hard gaze sending shivers up Scorn's spine.

"I don't know what any of you are talking about!" Scorn mewed, trying to keep his voice steady as it quavered. "I don't remember any of this; I just remember going out between the city and the Clan territory and not finding any BloodClan recruits along with my group!"

"Liar!" yowled a tabby, yellow eyes narrowed in suspicion and anger.

"Traitor! We all know you did it!" the scraggly she-cat spat, pawing the ground with paws that looked like they were about to unsheathe claws. "Just confess now and maybe Heat will go easy on you."

"I always knew there was something shifty about that Scorn cat," a gray tom muttered to his companion sitting beside him, who murmured cautious agreement in a slow voice.

Scorn looked up at Heat through amber eyes narrowed into angry slits, his teeth bared. Heat looked back, that infuriating, perpetual smirk on her face, with – was that really what Scorn was seeing on _Heat's_ face, of all cats? – a hint of sympathy.

_She knows I have no idea what these cats are talking about, _Scorn realized as his eyes widened, the words coming out slowly, like he couldn't believe it, even in his head. _She knows I have no memory of this, but still thinks I did it. Well, she'll see I didn't do this, she'll–_

"Wh-where am I? He...help m-me Scorn, 'm your brother!" Oakbranch stumbled out from behind the Scraphill, having finally regained consciousness, clawing his way forward. His amber eyes were wide open and looked unseeing, as if he was going around sleepwalking, or so sick he had no idea what he was doing.

All BloodClan eyes had now been directed to Oakbranch, who certainly looked a sight: messy, his fur tangled, and his expression making him look like he had a disease of some sort, he looked like he had traveled to The Place of No Stars and back.

"What...St-StarClan..." Scorn breathed, his voice ragged.

Oakbranch swerved with an abrupt move in Scorn's direction, recognizing the voice. "Scooorn!" he yowled, pawing the air in short, rabid moves. "H-help me, 'm all tied up...don't kill m-me, I-I'm your brother...brother..."

Scorn stared at Oakbranch, his eyes growing wider and wider as the memory came back to him. Not being able to resist the feeling to help Oakbranch when he recognized him as his brother, no matter how much he hated him...freeing him from the sticky plants and sap, and hunting prey to give to him to eat...getting him water from puddles for his parched throat...and then, finally, leaving him on his way an returning back to the BloodClanners, saying he had to go make dirt...a long one...and then felt hungry, so he hunted...

His claws unsheathed, Scorn dug into the ground, deeper and deeper has his lip stretched back into a snarl of fury. How could he be so stupid? How could he have forgotten something like that?

Oakbranch tottered, still heading toward Scorn and pushing other BloodClanners aside in the process. "Thank you, Sc-Scorn," Oakbranch rasped, his face stretched in a haggard, overjoyed smile. "You freed me, saved me, fed me...I knew it, knew it...you're still my brother, brother, brother..." His voice started to dwindle down. "F-Ferretpaw," he breathed, his wide amber eyes shining with happiness. "My brother, my brother, my brother..."

"What are you doing, you idiot?" Scorn snarled as he stood up, preparing himself to fend off Oakbranch when he got close enough. His claws were out at the ready, but his stance still looked a little weak, revealing the disbelief and horror Scorn still felt inside.

"I need...I need food!" Oakbranch whined, pawing the air. "Water...water..." As Oakbranch got closer and closer, Scorn stared into Oakbranch's eyes; widened, they looked as if they stared at nothing and into nothing.

_He must be delirious, _Scorn thought, tensing. _He must think he's still when I was saving him by freeing him and giving him prey and water, or reliving it. But why?_

Too occupied with his thoughts and Oakbranch, Scorn didn't notice or hear the other BloodClanners muttering to themselves, staring at him, or, in Heat's case, watching him as keenly as a hawk.

"Get away from me," Scorn hissed. "I don't care if you're so sick from something you're delirious, or that you've probably just gotten me punished hugely. You may be my brother, but I still hate you."

Oakbranch's eyes gleamed with delight, and Scorn sighed, knowing from his brother's expression Oakbranch had not heard or understood what he said. "Thank you for helping me, Scorn," Oakbranch mewed yet again, his tail waving quickly in excitement. "I always knew you were good on the inside and not an evil, horrible BloodClanner after all! I'm so grateful, and I knew you were a true ThunderClanner at heart. You should come back; you'll be so much happier and you can get a real warrior name! You can abandon these cruel, heartless BloodClanners and forget about them forever...forever." Oakbranch trailed off, his glazed looking eyes gazing off into the sky as he wore a happy grin.

The ThunderClanner had appeared to finally ended his thanks for Scorn and replaying some of his tied up situation. However, as soon as he had ended, his old enemy had come back: the cramps. A sudden mewl ripping out of Oakbranch's throat, he ran around like a terrified mouse trying to escape a cat, scurrying around like crazy and giving out a thin, neverending mewl. When he got near the base of the Scraphill he crashed, falling to the ground which he began squirming and writhing on. Scorn swallowed, and, putting on his grim expression, ignored his brother and gazed up at Heat, not even bothering to try to beg for mercy.

Heat chuckled, whiskers twitching; a few BloodClanners chortled along with her, their laughter partly real and partly forced. It soon dwindled away after Heat stopped, some looking down at the ground guiltily when they realized she had stopped chuckling.

"Well," Heat purred, "I am utterly confident that I can officially charge Scorn with helping the enemy for no reason at all, and that I have substantial evidence for this charge." Here her tail pointed in Oakbranch's direction, who was still mewling very softly and thrashing and flailing about in the dirt by the Scraphill.

Scorn's breathing sped up and his jaw tightened. No matter how much he wanted to feel that he didn't care about being punished and doing something against the rules of BloodClan, it was all he could do to keep from ripping and destroying everything around him in a fury. Any hopes of one day becoming one of Heat's Elite were ruined, most likely, and he'd probably never even move up to the next order of BloodClan cats...instead, he would probably be put lower than the last one, worth even less than a sick, dying kit. He would be better of in ThunderClan at this rate...

Feeling a squirming feeling, Scorn realized his claws had dug so deep into the ground that his paws were nearly submerged. Unearthing his paws, he sheathed his claws and grimaced, only darting the quickest of glances at Heat.

At that moment Scorn realized he was just as bad as the meek weaklings he hated, and raised his head, looking up at Heat straight in the eye.

Heat smirked, then snorted softly.

"I understand what I have done wrong, and fully accept my punishment, whatever it may be," Scorn growled, repeating the words that were supposed to be used by the committer of the crime.

Heat nodded, her expression looking far too amused to be serious, in Scorn's opinion. "First, get out of the middle of the crowd. As the one who has committed the crime, you must sit in front of the Scraphill in front of everyone else. Heat nodded to the ones at the front, the BloodClanners of the first order, as the Elite always sat behind Heat. "Move back."

The first order BloodClan cats did so; a few sniggered a bit, but most of the first order BloodClanners prided themselves on not being so immature, and, thus, stayed silent, making their point with gazes of all kinds instead.

His expression solemn and serious, Scorn padded in front of the first order BloodClanners, the only sounds coming from him being his soft footfalls.

Heat gazed down at Scorn from narrowed slits, wearing the expression one would get when they had just fully outsmarted someone and knew it. "Your punishment," Heat said, her voice somewhere between a purr and a hiss, "is to perform the Honor Killings."

A wave of silence rushed in, pouncing on the BloodClanners. Scorn's eyes widened so much he felt as if they would pop out, and he labored to keep his breathing slow, but it just got shuddering and raspier.

Scorn had only ever heard of the Honor Killings from older BloodClanner members, as it hadn't been done in a long time, what with no cats even thinking of doing something that could receive that punishment. Even so, what he had heard by hearsay was enough to make it that all he could hear was his heartbeat, sounding impossibly booming and much too slow compared to the level of panic and total shock he was feeling.

Heat paused, studying Scorn's and the other BloodClanners' reaction, alerting Scorn to the idea of perhaps letting his eyes return back to normal instead of widening them more, then continued, meowing, "The Honor Killings, or, as some call them, the Killings of Honor or the Honors, were devised by the BloodClan leader Scourge, though not as a punishment. In his time, it was given to cats who wanted to prove themselves or sacrifice the ultimate to get a higher position in BloodClan, as skill in killing – something that was an important part of battle to Scourge and his cats – was highly respected, and what better way to earn that respect and a high position in BloodClan than accomplishing the Honor Killings?

"Now, however, it is feared and given as punishment rather than an honor or choice. It also serves to make ruthless warriors for BloodClan...if they survive, that is." Heat smiled, showing her sharp white teeth. "If I feel you did very well, I may give you a Highering ceremony. Not to say that it still isn't a punishment; I assure you, it is."

_Gee, thanks, _Scorn thought, grimacing. The time Heat had taken in talking had let him start to recover his usual sense of sarcasm, but the layer was a thin one, with shock still very close to the surface.

"The Honor Killings," Heat meowed, "are a series of killings – always four – that the cat has to carry out. The first one is to torture their prey before eating it, and is usually the easiest. The second is to kill a cat in battle. The third is to have a fight do the death with one of the best fighters of BloodClan. The fourth and last is to kill an innocent, helpless kit."

Scorn nodded. That didn't seem that horrible, he supposed...but then why was it so feared? A small chill, a sense of horror settled in his chest, but Scorn ignored it.

Heat stood up and looked down at Scorn, her piercing amber gaze penetrating any walls Scorn had set up in his mind. "Scorn of the fourth order of BloodClan, you are to perform the Honor Killings."

Scorn took a deep breath, then replied, "I understand what I am to do, and will perform my punishment of the Honor Killings to my best ability."

Heat smirked. "Then we have come to an understanding, Scorn. The first task of the Honor Killings will be soon."

Scorn nodded and sighed, while the BloodClanners all set their gazes once more on Scorn, and began chanting in low, raspy voices, "Scorn, Honor Killings, Scorn, Honor Killings, Scorn, Honor Killings, Scorn..."

And through the unbearable pain of the cramps, two words got through to Oakbranch: "Scorn" and "Killings."

_StarClan...Oh, StarClan, why? Why...?_

xx

**The ending was much weaker than I had imagined it would be, but all in all I'm pleased with this chapter, its length especially. It's around 7000 words shorter than the last one.**

**Constructive criticism appreciated. **


	16. Chapter 14

So, I actually could have had this chapter up much earlier, but I wanted to get the outline finished up to Chapter 17. But considering that what I had to write was Chapter 14, and I had the outline of Chapter 15 completed, I decided just to start it and write the outline for Chapter 16 later. And then I procrastinated and had no time to write 'cause of school, so, yeah. And then I procrastinated, like, a lot more. But, no, procrastination is not my middle name. Yet.

...Oh, and I also have come to the conclusion that Deadfoot pwns.

Chapter 14

If one was watching a certain part of StarClan's skies, this cat would be looking upon a large clearing, everything beside it shrouded in shadow; if this meeting was taking place down on Earth, that could be a problem, making it harder for the StarClanners to tell if someone was intruding on them. However, this wasn't Earth, and passersby in the skies were a much rarer phenomenon than down below.

In this clearing was a crowd of several StarClanners, most of them recently dead, though StarClan's idea of recent was a longer time than that of the alive Clan cats. A few sat facing the rest of the crowd: obviously what one would consider the leaders, something that could be seen as obvious by their erect posture, their expressions a mask of sureness and certainty, their heads high and proud.

"Of course," said one of the cats at the front, green eyes gleaming, "we all know why we have arranged this meeting." Like the others sitting next to him, he showed nearly no sign at all that he was worried, a ghost of a friendly smile on his face. It was a skill that every cat who'd once been high up in their Clan acquired, and Firestar was no exception.

A whisper escaped the mouth of one cat in the crowd, breathy and escaping into its surroundings once free from the cat's thoughts: "BloodClan."

Firestar nodded. "Yes. BloodClan. As we know, Oakbranch of ThunderClan recently brought it up not so long ago, though he is far from the first to do so. We've been partially ignoring it—after all, no battles have arisen, no real problems. But, though we deny it, we're avoiding the issue."

"Cats have been persuaded into leaving their birth Clans and joining BloodClan!" one cat cried, tail waving.

"That's true, Darkfoot," Firestar mewed. "And that's only the start. Who knows how many more cats will leave their birth Clans to join BloodClan? After all, BloodClan is already far bigger than RiverClan, ThunderClan, ShadowClan, or WindClan. BloodClan seems to be trying to convince the Clans they're no threat, but...my granddaughter does not act very...peacefully."

"We should be trying to get rid of them!" one cat said, his gray fur bristling.

"But how?" said a blue-gray she-cat sitting next to Firestar—Bluestar, leader of ThunderClan before him. "You all know we have received no prophecy, nothing to tell us it will be right to somehow get rid of BloodClan."

A black tom snorted. "It's not like we need a prophecy to actually do something. We know BloodClan's doing no good, so we have to destroy them ourselves. We don't need to wait for a prophecy to tell us what to do."

"Without a prophecy, Tigerstar could now have been ruling over all the Clans made into one," Firestar said quietly, whiskers twitching.

"And without a prophecy, the Clans would have been destroyed in the old territory," Bluestar added, blue eyes flashing. "Without a prophecy directing you, would you have moved out of the old territory, Deadfoot? No; you would have been taken away by Twolegs or killed."

"Well, yes," Deadfoot growled, scuffing his tail on the ground. "But we had no idea about that. It was sudden and unexpected. We've encountered BloodClan before, and we know they're no good. So why not do something about it instead of sitting on our tails waiting for a prophecy?"

"But if there's a prophecy, then we know that it's right to get rid of BloodClan, and we'll probably succeed!" a tabby yowled. "Trying to do something like that without a prophecy is just as good as condemning ourselves to failure!"

"Exactly," said a dark tortoiseshell. "Whenever there has been something big to accomplish, we have found a prophecy in the pool of prophecies; since a prophecy hasn't turned up yet, it's obvious that, this time, BloodClan will not be a danger to the Clans, no matter how threatening their cats currently seem."

A gray she-cat sitting next to Deadfoot rolled her eyes. "Spottedleaf, we all know how much you put stock in prophecies and hope for the best. Just because a prophecy hasn't come doesn't mean something won't happen, when it's clear from BloodClan's attitude that something _will_ happen."

"Agreed," Deadfoot growled, yellow eyes narrowed.

Spottedleaf's amber eyes widened, her expression one of shock. "Yellowfang, you should know how important prophecies are! After all, you were once a medicine cat."

Yellowfang snorted. "Exactly," she said. "I came to know more about them and not think of them as miraculous, mystical things. Prophecies are not as common as mice, even if battles and evil cats sometimes are. We must have been trusted to know that BloodClan is a minor, yet threatening enough matter that they should not continue existing, instead of being reassured to go and do something about them with a prophecy."

By the look on her face, Spottedleaf was not convinced. "Perhaps we are just being too impatient," she mewed. "It's not as if a prophecy will come once we realize that this is a serious matter. Why don't we go to the pool of prophecies again and check for one?" She tilted her head, amber eyes thoughtful.

"That sounds sensible," Firestar meowed, smiling at Spottedleaf. "We might as well." Spottedleaf smiled back, and Deadfoot rolled his eyes, while Yellowfang's eyes hardened, seeming to be thinking of another cat.

"Fine," she said, sighing. Firestar got up to his feet, as did Spottedleaf and Bluestar; Deadfoot began to grumble under his breath as he got up with a mulish, annoyed expression on his face, and the rest of the group of StarClan cats got up as well, padding out of the clearing.

Like always in StarClan, one couldn't really describe the trip from one place to another. Being in the sky, StarClan could be abstract, and not definite and _there_ like down in the land of the living. It was more like a blur; knowing that you were going somewhere, but not sure how you got there once you arrived, and not being able to describe the trip at all. It was something to get used to, and StarClan cats had to.

Eventually the group of StarClanners stopped walking, finding themselves in a place fairly akin to the Moonpool. Several small pools and puddles of water were scattered on the ground. The pools lie farther away from the StarClanners than the puddles, which were used mainly for looking down to the lands of the living and walking into the realm of dreams; it was the small ponds which were used to discover prophecies and signs.

A few cats stopped to look in the puddles for a couple heartbeats and then continued walking, their paws making no sound on the hard ground. Walking onto the grass, the StarClan cats split up to look at the pools of prophecies, peering in and eyes reflecting the water.

Spottedleaf, Firestar, and Yellowfang looked into one.

"I can't see anything," Spottedleaf said, frowning. "The pool is still completely blank, just ordinary water."

Yellowfang sighed. "That's what I said. There is no prophecy, and there won't be one no matter how many times you check the pools. Nothing will pop into your head; you'll see no visions in the water."

The cats huddled around the other prophecy pools seemed to be experiencing the same as well, judging by their hushed murmurs and drooping tails. Deadfoot, who was inspecting a smaller pool with Tallstar, snorted and meowed, "See? No prophecy. But that shouldn't stop us and the Clans."

Spottedleaf sighed. "But then it's as if what we're doing is justified! We have no idea if what we're doing is right or not..."

"So now we need prophecies to justify ourselves?" Deadfoot said, yellow eyes narrowing once again. "We've all done many things with having no idea if it's right or not—why stop now?"

Spottedleaf just glared at Deadfoot, something rare for the always kind and even-tempered StarClanner.

"What you should have discovered while living, Spottedleaf, is that not everything can be justified, and that not everything you do will necessarily be right," Deadfoot mewed, yellow eyes hard.

"You lived for a much longer time than Spottedleaf, Deadfoot," Firestar interjected, his voice calm.

"Always defending her, aren't you, Firestar?" a large, pale tom standing by a pool a few fox-lengths away murmured.

Firestar's mouth twitched into a sort of small grin. "I like to defend my friends, Crookedstar. What about you?"

Crookedstar snorted and turned back to the prophecy pool he was standing near.

"Crookedstar also likes to let his friends defend themselves," Oakheart put in, eyes gleaming with amusement.

Firestar sighed. "I believe we came here because of prophecies and their absence—not about relationships."

"Yes, we did," said Bluestar, whiskers twitching. "No prophecy has come." She turned away from the pool she was sitting at. "Has anybody seen a prophecy in any of the pools?"

She was answered with a chorus of noes and other various negative responses coming one after the other, far from in unison. Bright eyes dulling, Bluestar shook her head in disappointment. "It is plain," she said, "that there will be no prophecy. Despite this, I think the majority of us agree that BloodClan is still a big threat, and that we must do something about them." Pausing, she waited for the StarClanners to confirm this, which they did with loud, resounding yeses and emphatic nods. "If so," Bluestar mewed gravely, "then we—and the Clans—will have to do something about them ourselves.

The former ThunderClan leader let the statement rest in the air, letting the StarClan cats take it in like breathing in air. They had known it to be a sort of truth already, but now it was certain; it _was_ truth, not to be classified under the sort of's and the half-and-halves.

Spottedleaf opened her mouth, about to mew something, but Cinderpelt interrupted, saying firmly, "Yes, Spottedleaf. We will do something about BloodClan, and we will do something about BloodClan _without a prophecy._"

Many StarClan cats flicked their tails in agreement, and Spottedleaf nodded slowly, not seeming very eager to agree.

"But, the Clan cats—" a tabby began.

"They will have to accept that BloodClan must be eliminated without a prophecy," Firestar said. "Though I'm not sure they'll care much—most of the cats have been eager to do something about the BloodClan cats ever since their reappearance at that Gathering moons ago."

"I wonder why it's so much more of an issue among us than the Clan cats, when it doesn't even affect us as much," Deadfoot muttered.

"Would _you_ like many more cats added to our ranks?" a white tom said; Deadfoot had been one of those who had joined StarClan's ranks the first time the Clans had encountered BloodClan.

"Stubborn though I may be, I think I'm smart enough to know that you may be insinuating I'm bitter enough about my death during a battle with BloodClan to not care if cats die by their paws, and that I may be wanting them to die to feel better about my own death," Deadfoot said flatly.

The tom merely glared at Deadfoot and turned away.

"I thought so," Deadfoot muttered, snorting.

Firestar sighed. "Please, Deadfoot, refrain from the arguing."

"Will do, Firestar, as long as Whitefoot does too." Deadfoot sniffed.

Firestar fixed him with an expression that came somewhere between a disappointed look, a glare, and an expression of annoyance. "I'll take that as an 'okay.'"

"So," Firestar mewed, "do we agree that this meeting is over? That a conclusion has been reached?"

The StarClanners meowed their agreement.

"Very well," Firestar said. "We have no prophecy, nothing but the will to do something about BloodClan.

"Now it's time to see if will is just as strong as prophecy."

--

Oakbranch was the type who found it very hard to learn life lessons that had to do with his loved ones, even if that love wasn't mutual. Suffice to say, the life lesson "Don't try to rescue Scorn because it won't do anything" hadn't quite sunk into his head fully yet, and in his current state of mind, he couldn't grasp it at all. Especially when Scorn had been used in the same sentence as "killing." One could guess what conclusion his garbled mind had reached: Heat had decided to kill Scorn.

The solution? He had to escape. With Scorn. So he wouldn't be killed. It made perfect sense, to one who was currently pretty senseless.

The pain of the cramps dulled in comparison to this new, all-important mission, and Oakbranch lurched onto his paws, wobbling for a few seconds. Through almost-closed eyes, he could see Scorn sitting calmly in front of the Scraphill, Heat looking down on him from the top of it. Why was he so calm? Did Scorn not understand that Heat was going to _kill_ him? Or had he been brainwashed to think of being killed by his own leader as a good thing? This was even worse than Oakbranch had thought...

He broke into a staggering run from his position next to the Scraphill, heading straight for Scorn. "Ge—g'tting kiilled...savve..." he rasped as he sped up, somehow fast but still rocking from side to side, looking as if he was about to fall down.

Scorn didn't turn, not hearing Oakbranch's husky growls; instead, he was still looking up at Heat. "So," he mewed, "is this meeting finished?"

Heat nodded. "The Killngs shall begin—"

Killing! It was there again! And begin...they were going to start killing Scorn!

"SCOOAWRRN!" yowled Oakbranch, starting to stagger again while running from excitement. "SAAVVE!" He tackled Scorn and bit his neck scruff, trying to drag him away.

"What—the—" Scorn said between gasps.

"They're g-g-going to..to...tokillyou!" Oakbranch yowled, his forelegs holding Scorn down while he replied to what Scorn said. He started to run again, holding Scorn by the scruff again.

"Get off of me, you idiot!" Scorn twisted, trying to get out of Oakbranch's grasp and failing—his brother's current madness had paid off, giving him an intent he was so focused on that not even Scorn's BloodClan training could get him out Oakbranch's hold in his scruff.

Heat watched from her stance on the Scraphill, her expression neutral; her eyes, however, held a spark of amusement within them, and it seemed that, currently, she had forsaken rescuing one of her BloodClanners for being entertained by Oakbranch's attempt to rescue Scorn.

Oakbranch continued to run, although it had slowed into more of a trot with the addition of Scorn, plus Scorn's efforts to free himself from his brother's grip.

"Urgh—I—can't—believe—this—"

"Mrrhrrrmmm!" What Oakbranch said could have been some sort of worried yowl, or maybe just a groan, but it was impossible to tell, his words muffled because of his grip on Scorn's scruff.

Heat continued to watch, and, when Oakbranch began to reach the edges of the area where the Scraphill was located, Heat looked back to two dark, wiry cats behind her and hissed orders; the two cats nodded and leapt off the Scraphill.

"Rrghmmff—_mm!_"

Oakbranch's head lolled to the side, his bite on Scorn's scruff weakening and allowing him to get up as Oakbranch crumpled to the ground, struck unconscious by one of the two black cats. The one standing right by Oakbranch's head, probably the one who had dealt the blow, slipped away, dashing back to the Scraphill, while the other dragged him off, following his partner.

Amber eyes narrowing, Scorn stalked back to the crowd of BloodClanners, who had also been watching with interest. A few had expressions that suggested they were holding back snorts, giggles, and other such smug expressions and sniggers.

_Go on, laugh, _he thought, glaring at the BloodClan cats. _Like any of you ever had a crazy brother who thinks you want live in your old home that you now despise. You'll pay for it later._

Heat swished her tail, signaling for peace again. With some difficulty, the BloodClan warriors assumed straight, perfectly normal and grave faces, though a bit strained.

"Well," said Heat, pausing. "That was certainly an...interesting experience." The uncertainty of what to say, the pawing for words, was perfectly manufactured and fake, and could easily fool the listener not looking out for it. Heat was a master of words and faked feelings; Scorn had to grant her that.

Turning to the two black guards who were standing in front of the unconscious Oakbranch, Heat flicked her tail at them and murmured, "Take him to one of the cells."

So Heat had finally decided to imprison Oakbranch after one of his visits. It was about time, and—oh, foxdung. Heat was going to imprison him, too, wasn't she? Her reason would be so he wouldn't try to get out of the Honors, or so Oakbranch couldn't find him if he somehow escaped out of his cell, or something like that...but Scorn knew her main reason was just for his reaction.

One black cat bent down and picked Oakbranch up by the scruff, beginning to drag him along. The other cat followed, and the two left the Scraphill area, presumably to take Oakbranch to one of the cells.

_That'll be me in a couple moments. _Scorn fought the urge not to shoot a glare at Heat; that would just amuse her even more. She liked knowing that what she did got to cats, and giving Heat a reaction played right into her paws.

Heat turned toward him, her amber eyes lighting up as if she just had remembered him—which she hadn't, Scorn knew. Heat remembered. Heat always remembered. "Ah, yes, Scorn."

Scorn considered making some sort of belligerent comment, but that, once again, would play right into Heat's paws, he knew. It was best to just stay quiet, pay attention, and give the sarcastic remarks to fellow BloodClan cats.

"You might as well just imprison me now," he growled, his amber eyes narrowed.

Heat chuckled. "Imprison you? Now, Scorn, why would I ever imprison _you_? You very well know that it's no use trying to escape, unlike your idiot brother."

Well, well. Heat was always full of surprises, wasn't she? Very rarely were they as pleasant as this one, though.

Scorn cocked an ear. "So you're just going to let me be as free as normal?"

Heat laughed again. "Of course not!"

_Foxdung._

"You will be imprisoned for the time two suns have risen and set—after all, I can't take the chance of you trying to escape the Honor Killings. Many try to get out of it and get far away from BloodClan right before the first killing. You may be sensible about it now...but sooner or later, it could get to your head, and we want to keep you safe, don't we?"

Scorn grit his teeth. "Yes. You do."

Heat flashed a smile. "I knew you would agree, Scorn. It is always best to agree with the leader, no?"

"Yes," Scorn muttered. "And after the two sunsets? Will I be able to go free?"

"With restrictions," mewed Heat, her tone sweet, but not so much innocent—that was one tone she couldn't capture very well in her voice all the time, which Scorn felt spoke volumes of her true nature. "You will see after your time in one of the cells."

One of the two black guard cats padded into the Scraphill area, his pawsteps completely silent.

_He's probably here to lead me to my cell,_ Scorn thought, watching him pad up to the bottom of the Scraphill and sit down, tail wrapped neatly around his paws, green eyes staring ahead, somehow glassy and penetrating at the same time.

_Cell. _The word felt ugly, impossible, even in his mind. Scorn didn't even want to know how it would taste on his tongue.

Heat gave the guard a curt nod. "Lead Scorn to his cell," Heat mewed, giving a slight nod to the black cat and flicking her tail to the edge of the Scraphill area.

Sighing, Scorn got up to his paws.

"Keep your eyes closed on the way there, Scorn," Heat added. "I do hope you don't forget about that. It would be rather unfortunate, wouldn't it?"

Of course it would. Disobeying rules always resulted in something "rather unfortunate," which was why the disobeying of rules was rather uncommon. Scorn caught himself in mid-glare and replaced it with a blank expression before anyone would notice, then closed his eyes. He stood there for a few moments, waiting for a sign to start following the guard.

Scorn was starting to wonder why no one had told him to start moving when he received a sharp kick on the side.

_...Oh._

"Follow me by scent," the guard hissed in his ear, in a smooth, sharp voice, to Scorn's surprise; because he never saw either of the two black guards talk, he assumed their voices would be raspy from apparent disuse.

The guard began walking; Scorn couldn't hear the sound of his pawsteps, but the dust that rose from his footfalls clouded Scorn's face, making him sneeze and telling him that the guard was, at least, moving.

From annoyed mews and the occasional brush of fur, Scorn could tell that he was moving among the crowd of BloodClanners, probably close to bumping into many of them. Soon the annoyed meows turned into whispered discussions, but Scorn didn't bother to listen to them; he knew that all they were talking about were the Honor Killings and his fate, nothing more.

Soon dust began to stop getting into Scorn's nose, and the ground under the BloodClanner's feet eventually became harder and smoother: not dirt, but concrete.

"Do you have a good memory?" the guard hissed suddenly, when the two cats had been walking through the city for not very long.

"Uh, I suppose so," Scorn mewed, his voice wary. Why did the guard want to know this?

_Oh, wait—_

A swift blow came on a certain part of Scorn's head, obviously from the guard.

_He's knocking me out because he doesn't trust my memory and—_

And before Scorn could finish the thought, it all went black, blacker than the black of the inside of his eyelids—after all, didn't it always go black at times like this?

That was a question that didn't need to be answered.

--

Scorn came to.

He blinked, the dimness of a cave—a cell—greeting him. The black guard was standing at the entrance, eyes glowing a bit eerily.

"Heat cannot trust anyone," the black cat whispered, as if that was enough explanation; but for Scorn, it was. He sighed, a soft growl escaping ever so slightly from his throat, and nodded.

Saying nothing more, the guard turned around, about to leave Scorn's cell.

"Hey!" Scorn called. "Aren't you going to guard me or anything?"

The cat turned back, purring, "Do you _really_ think that you'll try to escape—or that you'll even have the chance to?" Without even waiting for an answer, the guard padded away on swift, silent paws, leaving Scorn alone in his cell.

He sighed.

Opening his jaws in a yawn, Scorn clambered to his paws, his body feeling strangely heavy after his period of unconsciousness. His stomach rumbled, reminding him that he hadn't eaten since sometime around dawn. The guard might drop off a meager piece of prey somewhere around sunset, since it obviously wouldn't be wise to keep prisoners hungry—they were prisoners for a reason, and not dead cats—but sunset seemed an awfully long time away now that he was stuck in a cell with nothing to do but stare at the ground below his paws and the stony walls (Scorn wondered if these had been here before Heat, and, if so, how she'd discovered them.)

For now, Scorn supposed the best thing to do would be to think about something actually important, something that needed thinking about—the Honor Killings, for one. He still could barely believe the reason that he had to do them. Ugh. _Oakbranch._ Why did he have to exist or even care about him? After all, Creamflower seemed to be having a pretty good life in ThunderClan without him—it was only Oakbranch whose life had become dedicated to "rescuing" Scorn from BloodClan.

But the real problem was that Heat wouldn't have punished him with the Honors if Scorn hadn't even _rescued _and_ helped _Oakbranch when he was being starved to death (Scorn really wanted to thank those ThunderClanners who blamed the cat for Firestar's death), the weak-hearted cat he was. You couldn't escape your heritage, and Scorn's heritage was that of ThunderClan, the Clan that just couldn't bear not to help.

This was all his stupid, weak fault—his, and not anyone else's. (Though it had to be somewhat Oakbranch's fault, as well, for somehow going insane after Scorn rescued him.) If only he—no. No if onlys. With those, you ended up wishing you had done everything differently.

But _still. _Oakbranch was a piece of idiotic, helpless foxdung. Maybe if he'd had the wits to first get out of being trapped and left in the middle of nowhere, none of this would have happened and they could both be leading their own separate little lives, and Scorn would have never had to think about Oakbranch again. That, Scorn decided, would be a lovely life. Unfortunately, the word lovely never seemed to be able to be attributed to anything about Scorn's life, and certainly not the whole thing in general. Oakbranch's presence in the world wouldn't allow that to happen.

Oakbranch needed to be punished for what he'd led Scorn on to do—being imprisoned by Heat wasn't enough (he'd most likely be freed after several sunrises, or somehow rescued, because that was just what ThunderClan would do, and nothing bad ever seemed to happen to them anymore, like Firestar's death was a tiny mistake in their otherwise perfect fates. Or he might even be somehow put to ransom, and ThunderClan would agree to get Oakbranch back and be put under BloodClan's power, the sentimental mousebrains that they were). Something actually needed to _happen_ to him, something bad and something that would damage him permanently. Scorn didn't care if he was reacting too much to this; he just wanted Oakbranch gone and not in the best of shape. To put it mildly.

And then there was the matter of Heat, because it wasn't only the faults of him and Oakbranch. _She_ had been much too severe, much too strict and punishing, for a small transgression that didn't even directly harm BloodClan! Or indirectly, for that matter. The BloodClan leader was just doing this to wind Scorn up and receive amusement by watching him kill cats and steam at her for making him perform the Honors. Just thinking about what Heat was doing to him made Scorn's eyes narrow, his claws unsheathe and dig deep into the cool, damp dirt in his cell, thinking of it as a throat—Oakbranch's or Heat's, he didn't know.

Heat needed to _pay_ for this. She couldn't get out of this without receiving something in return; it didn't matter if that something happened the next day or countless moons from now. It just needed to happen someday. Preferably sooner, but it would be more sensible if it happened later, when there was the small chance of Heat having forgotten about it. The only question was what could he do to Heat—

But that could come later. Scorn had plenty of time to think of that. Now, what else—oh, yes. The Honor Killings. The very event that had led Scorn to his place in the cell now. Yet another thing he wished didn't exist...

How could he get out of them? Sure, it hadn't seemed so bad when he'd first been punished with them, but, the more the actual punishment bounced around in his head, letting him reflect on it, the uneasier he felt about it. Even other BloodClanners were scared of it, and the cats of BloodClan weren't brought up to be afraid of death. There had to be some way to elude the Honors, to suddenly be told that he wasn't to do them after all, that it was just some fluke—

Ha. Like Heat or any of her guards would ever say that. Scorn couldn't even imagine it. Nothing that came out of Heat's mouth was a fluke; it was all deliberate, every sweet, sugar-coated word.

StarClan (Scorn winced as he thought this; no matter how much he tried, he couldn't get that Clan word out of his vocabulary), why was he even thinking about how he could get out of the Honors?

He knew it was pointless to even try to dissuade Heat from punishing him, and Scorn would have to do the Honor Killings whether he liked it or not. Thinking that somehow he wouldn't have to do them and then end up on the first day of the Honors and then having to do it anyway would be much more hurtful than just going ahead and doing them.

Yes, Scorn decided, it would just be best for him to do the Honors and get it over with. It was just—just killing, after all. And by performing the Honors, it was likely he would get back on Heat's good side; he might even get a Highering, since, back in the old days of Scourge, one was awarded for completing the Honors. But it was best not to hope for something as good as that; getting back onto Heat's good side (if Scorn had ever even been on it) was good enough now. After all, right now Scorn's residence was a _cell._ Nothing was better than being on the BloodClan's good side for a cat in a cell, of all things.

_But still, _Scorn thought, amber eyes narrowing as he pawed the ground, _if—no, when, _when_ I become leader of BloodClan, the Honor Killings will be eradicated—_gone.

--

For four cats, a peaceful, hilly place to hunt and relax did not greet them in their sleep—instead, soft whispers called them to a small clearing in StarClan, a place that looked just as peaceful and prey-plentiful; but no living cat could ever be satisfied by it, not when there were real sunny clearings to relax in and real, juicy rabbits and mice and fish to catch and sink their teeth into.

But that wasn't what these four living cats or the StarClan cats that called them were focused on at the moment. No; the subject that the StarClanners needed to call the four leaders of ThunderClan, WindClan, RiverClan, and ShadowClan for was that ever-popular topic, BloodClan. Or, to be slightly more specific, the BloodClan quandary.

"Of course," said Bluestar, "it is obvious why we have called you here, and I won't waste any time with a flowery, unneeded explanation."

The leaders nodded. "BloodClan," said Mistystar in a quiet voice.

"We have come to a conclusion that you and your Clanmates doubtless came up with moons before," Bluestar mewed, raising her chin. "BloodClan is not right—BloodClan should not be here."

"Are you giving us a prophecy?" Onestar meowed, perking up with a hopeful look on his face.

Bluestar sighed, her features looking much wearier, her sigh ragged. "We do not come up with the prophecies, Onestar. It seems to have been thought that we know enough about BloodClan not to need a prophecy to know to eliminate them."

Firestar nodded in assent. "You will have to come up with ways to—to put it bluntly—destroy BloodClan without a prophecy assuring you it's right to do so."

Onestar's quick intake of breath could be heard, Bramblestar's troubled frown seen, Mistystar's stiffness, down to her still sheathed claws almost felt. Blackstar's grim expression, however, had not changed from the moment he'd arrived.

"You are correct," he meowed smoothly, "in thinking that we already know this. However, you must have known deep inside that all of us—even Onestar, as astonished as he seems—knew that whether there was a prophecy or not, something needed to be done. Nothing you are saying, for me, at least, is new. I must say, though, I'm glad to see that you've decided to address this, instead of staying silent and putting some of us"—this was said in a way that suggested that Blackstar was obviously not one of those some—"into an even bigger panic than before."

Firestar chuckled. "Blackstar, ever the pessimistic one, eh? Well, it seems like it's come into good use this time."

Blackstar rolled his eyes.

"Anyway," said a large, light-furred tom, stepping out of the background, "you all know that the Clans need to be regular; they need to be _right_, and the way to accomplish that is to get rid of BloodClan, who will surely do much more bad than good."

Mistystar nodded, looking a little happier than before; probably because of Crookedstar's presence, one that she had grown up with as a RiverClan cat. "But the problem is," she mewed, "that BloodClan is so much bigger than any of the Clans; it may be bigger than all the Clans put together, or at least nearly as much. To get rid of a group of cats as big as that, we will need some very good ideas that are executed very well."

"And," Bramblestar added, speaking up for the first time (he obviously still wasn't very comfortable with his being leader of ThunderClan, despite how much he'd once wanted it), "Heat is a very different leader than Scourge, one who has led her BloodClan cats differently. If we happen to kill Heat"—here his voice trembled a bit; he was thinking of Heat as his daughter and not a threat—"the BloodClanners will not scatter in fear because their leader is dead, like with what happened when Firestar killed Scourge. Since Heat was obviously aware of that, knowing so many other things, she must have made sure that that wouldn't happen if one of us killed her. It's like she's closed every loophole."

"We'll never know what happens if we don't try," Firestar meowed. "If we just sit on our bottoms like stupid prey, then we will always have to live with BloodClan, and Clan life would never be right again."

"And if we do try, we'll have to succeed, which won't necessarily happen," Blackstar muttered under his breath, but no one seemed to hear.

"If we try to get rid of BloodClan with an all-out huge battle, we'll need many more cats," Onestar murmured, as if thinking aloud. "Either our queens would need to give birth to many more kits—but we'd have to wait until they became warriors—or we would have to recruit cats from outside the Clan." His nose wrinkled in distaste, not pleased at the thought of all the Clan leaders becoming Firestars.

"Well, if it comes to that, it would have to happen," Mistystar mewed. "Loners would be best; there are many loners who fight well because they need to survive on their own, but we'd need to convince them that Clan life is best...maybe rogues, if we could convince them the Clans aren't so bad..." She paused, then mewed, in a significantly quieter, smaller voice, ashamed of what she was about to say, "And if we get very, very desperate, maybe—maybe kittypets."

"Oh, StarClan, no," Blackstar growled. "Loners and rogues I can take, but kittypets?"

Bramblestar fidgeted, biting his lip. "Some kittypets could turn out like Firestar," he put in. "And though, often, the older ones will be set in their ways, kits taken in at a young age fare just as well as Clanborn kits."

Firestar smiled, green eyes gleaming.

"You're welcome," Bramblestar murmured, not even waiting for a thank-you.

There was a pause; most cats fidgeted, pawing the ground and swishing tails and twitching whiskers.

"And," said Firestar, breaking the silence, "some kittypets have Twolegs so lenient that they are allowed to get out of the Twoleg nests and wander around, learning how to kill prey and sometimes spending nights outside, being kittypets just by birth and more like loners."

Onestar snorted. "I doubt those kittypets are the majority—though, I have to concede that those types of kittypets wouldn't be too bad," he muttered, sounding ashamed to admit that it wouldn't be such a crime.

"I suppose we can let that idea rest in our heads," Mistystar mewed. "It would certainly be harder to accomplish than it seems, though, since not all cats are eager to join the Clans and become Clan cats; it would take quite a bit of convincing for most of them."

"Well, if you did recruit many cats, perhaps the Clans could travel to that giant Twolegplace that the BloodClan cats live in and attack the BloodClanners? Hopefully, you could kill most of them." This suggestion was put out by a StarClanner near the back of the group."

"But we need to remember to be cautious," said Blackstar. "Back in the battle with BloodClan in the old territory, the cats were excellent fighters. I have no doubt that Heat and her—advisor, she called him?—Talon continued that standard. It seems that they place more importance in fighting than we do and train their apprentices longer. We would need to train ours longer and have them get better at fighting to have the least chance of being equal to BloodClan, let alone killing most of them."

"Don't be such a pessimist, Blackstar," Onestar mewed. "It would be best to try, yes?"

"Your attitude suggests trying in the vein of trying a new fighting move or mock-fighting with friends, and not a real battle in which many of us could die or get seriously damaged, Onestar," Blackstar growled.

"That may be because you're always trying to disagree with every cat, Blackstar," Onestar mewed, his eyes flashing with annoyance for a moment.

Blackstar twitched his whiskers, and gave a sort of half-smile. "It may be disagreement to you, but to me it is merely blunt truth."

"I think it would be appreciated if you two didn't fight in the realm of StarClan, of all places," Mistystar murmured, her tail swishing.

"I agree," said Bluestar; there was something about the firm, steely tone her voice took that seemed to add on "and it would be best if you stopped right now, lest anything more happen" in a commanding enough way that made both Blackstar and Onestar nod and then look as if the whole dialogue had never happened.

"Maybe you could send one of your stealthiest trackers to assassinate Heat?" Oakheart suggested, finally speaking up.

"Weren't you listening, Oakheart?" Leopardstar snapped, still quick to be annoyed in StarClan. "Or even paying attention to what's been going on down in the world of the living? Heat's BloodClan is not Scourge's. The cutting of the snake's head metaphor does not apply here, because Heat's BloodClan can grow another."

Oakheart snorted. "I stopped listening with my full attention when the bickering started, so that point must have been made during one of those times."

Leopardstar rolled her eyes. "That's an excellent way to not know what's going on around you—I'm glad you never became leader of RiverClan."

"Last time I checked, this was a discussion about how to get rid of BloodClan, not mindless chatting," Bramblestar meowed, frowning. "I think we should try to stay on topic."

Bluestar nodded in assent. "It seems like we've gone pretty off-track," she mewed, her blue-eyed gaze studying the StarClanners and the other three leaders. "I think this discussion has ended; we will meet again soon and think up more alternatives." Raising her voice, the former ThunderClan leader looked around and meowed, "Is that agreed?"

A collective murmur of such phrases as "Yes" and "I agree" and "That sounds good" came from the cats.

"Very well, then," Bluestar said. "You may disperse."

And as the StarClanners padded off into separate directions and the Clan leaders faded away, having woken up, Bluestar let out a deep, heavy sigh.

"Do you think it went well?" Firestar asked in the sort of tone that suggested he already knew the answer and the question was merely a formality.

Bluestar's frosty blue eyes narrowed. "There's...there's a long way to go as to the solving of this, I'll say that," she hissed. "A very long way..."

--

Weak ending, yeah.

Also, the beta'd version of this is now up. 'Cause it's, uh, this chapter. Yeah.


	17. Chapter 15

Let's see…what excuse can I use this time…NaNoWriMo? Well, that happened in November…I wanted a time to rest after the chapter, and then time to rest after a nonstop month of writing? Sure, let's go with that. Whatever. All I know is that it shouldn't be standard for me to have an excuse for not getting whatever chapter up sooner at the beginning of every new chapter. xD/D8

Also, the white gone dirty line made by the white tom (hope you guys can figure out who he is…I thought it wasn't that hard) is partially taken by Granny Weatherwax from the unbelievably awesome book series Discworld by Terry Pratchett (go out and read it. Best series ever), so, props to Terry Pratchett. Line's not really mine.

_Chapter 15_

Picture a bright ginger she-cat curled up in the corner of a cave, obviously sleeping. When sleeping, most cats look harmless, and this one is just so, which just goes to show how misleading one's exterior can be, because this is no ordinary cat: this is Heat, leader of BloodClan, despised by many but also loved by many others.

As misleadingly innocuous as Heat looked, she was still fairly ordinary in that, just like everyone else, she dreamed when she slept. And, as even those of below average intelligence could figure out, Heat was, thus, currently dreaming.

Usually, Heat's dreams were the standard fare shared by cats: hunting, peaceful scenes, what seemed to be prophecy (oddly, these were quite more common than most realized, although few actually were prophecy; this probably stemmed from actual prophecy among the cat world being much more common those days, a phenomenon that none could quite figure out), and so on.

This time, Heat's sleep was being occupied by something quite different: the pull of the Place of No Stars.

Actually, this wasn't too unusual. Every once in a while, Heat felt their pull, images of shadowy forests where there were no day or moon flashing in her mind, but she ignored them. The cats that inhabited the Place of No Stars seemed to think she was like them, that she was interested in what they wanted to do.

They were completely wrong, of course. Heat was a far different cat from those of the Place of No Stars, despite what they seemed to think, despite one of its inhabitants, Tigerstar, being her father's father. But, after all, Heat had never cared much for what her family was like, anyway.

So, as always, Heat ignored the beckoning. She was not evil, not at all, not like what the cats of the Place of No Stars seemed to think. It was irritating how often she was thought to be so, especially since this thought came from both the "good" _and_ "evil" sides.

It gave her the sense that they weren't quite so different as they pretended to be.

It was what came after the pull of the Place of No Stars that was the real oddity: another pull. Not another attempt by the Place of No Stars, but by its complete opposite: StarClan.

Well, that was different. Sure, it was StarClan, but StarClan had never tried to access her dreams before, either. Somewhere in the vague subconscious of her mind, Heat was interested, her curiosity piqued. This was a pull to accept, and Heat did just that.

Instantly, in less than the time it took to blink, Heat found herself in an open, grassy expanse, a pale blue sky stretched out above; facing her were several starry-furred cats—StarClanners. Mixed in with the clean night-scent of many of the StarClan cats was a faint echo of another scent Heat had come to known over the past moons—the smell of ThunderClan.

So these StarClanners were mostly former ThunderClanners. How very interesting.

No cat spoke; it was as if they were relying on their expressions to do so for them. Heat looked around, giving each of the faces a quick study. The main emotion on most of them seemed to be desperation, the sort that suggested last chances and "this won't work" thoughts.

—Ah. A half-planned attempt to stop Heat from whatever StarClan thought she was doing and turn her into a good cat—StarClan's version of a good cat—perhaps?

Judging from those very revealing expressions (you would think StarClan would know not to leave such intimate, telling expressions out in the open of a recognized enemy), Heat decided it her best guess.

Still, not one cat opened their mouth; Heat supposed they were waiting for her to start the conversation. Inside, she smirked. The beginning was the best place to gain an advantage. It was astonishing, really, how little these cats knew about the subtlety of conversations between enemies.

Instead of starting the conversation, Heat decided it would be best to respond; not one cat had said anything out loud yet, but they had said all they had first meant to say very plainly on their faces.

"I'm not evil, you know," she said, chuckling. "That's just your view of it."

A pause. Stares and the like, with the bored look of "I've heard this before" scattered around.

Heat tilted her head; she supposed this wasn't enough for the StarClanners and added, "In case you haven't noticed yet, I will not and will never become a good little ThunderClanner like you wish I would. I am BloodClan. It would be lovely if you understood that and left me in peace."

A gray she-cat with a flattened-looking face muttered, "Yes, leave you in peace while you won't us and the Clans," but she was promptly shushed by a cat sitting next to her.

A large white tom with yellow eyes (Heat was slightly annoyed that she didn't recognize most of the cats who were talking; she would have to ask a former Clan cat who had some knowledge of historical cats) stared at her for a couple moments, looking slightly pitying, in the "Oh, you think you know so much, but how little you know!" vein.

Heat easily resisted the urge to frown or narrow her eyes, but this cat irritated her nonetheless. That was the look she normally gave other cats; she wasn't used to receiving, nor did she think she should receive it. Making a mental note in her mind, she decided she would have to find out about this cat. He seemed much smarter than most StarClanners.

"Of course it is just our view of it," the white tom said, also chuckling.

This cat was not supposed to accept what she was saying so easily, or be amused by it. This cat was starting to annoy her more and more.

"However," he added, "it is the view of the Clans, also. And if such a large number of cats, many of them thoughtful and intelligent"—Heat noticed immediately his usage of the word many and not all, and laughed inside—"have taken that viewpoint, they may be on to something."

However, every statement had a reasonable response. "I know their viewpoint," Heat mewed, letting her tone drip with a bored "this is nothing new to me." "Their viewpoint is that my actions are evil and that I am evil. I like to think that I know myself very well. I think I would know if I was evil, and I think I would know it much better than cats who cannot see inside my mind."

The big white tom flicked his tail and replied, "We all also have the tendency to deny our own traits to ourselves sometimes. Typically, the ones who deny to themselves and to others over and over again that they are not evil are the evil ones."

The StarClan cats nodded and all mewed assent, not one cat seeming to object. Bluestar (that was one former ThunderClanner Heat certainly knew about) let out a purr of pleasure, while Firestar shot the tom a look of respect mixed with pride.

"Basically," the white tom finished up, "you are evil for all intents and purposes, as that is certainly the way you seem to acting to us, and the way your actions surely will become."

Heat just barely managed not to snarl and grit her teeth, seething inside, as her claws itched to unsheathe. This was definitely the angriest she had gotten in a long time, and all the white tom had done was calmly state his argument, just in the way she would have done (although she probably would have done so in a smugger way, just to make her opponent annoyed and less calm about their own argument). So why was this tom infuriating her so much?

"_I_ know I am gray and not the black you make me out to be, and that is all that matters," Heat meowed in a steely voice, careful not to show her irritation even more by hissing, spitting, or snarling her words out. "I will continue to act like this, and not the white you want me to be, or the black you apparently think I am." Letting out a small breath, she waited for one of the StarClanners—hopefully not that white tom—to respond.

Reflecting on what she had said, Heat decided it sounded like she was as obstinate and stuck with her own opinion as ever. That was good, except for that, usually, she was supposed to feel like that on the inside as well.

Heat blinked. What was that she had just admitted to herself? That she was secretly beginning to _doubt_ herself. _No, _she thought, tail flicking about in an agitated way, _no._ She could not allow herself to do that—next, she would find herself _agreeing_with the StarClanners, and after that…a shiver ran up her spine. Why was she caring so much about the opinions of stupid little Clans? They were just the thoughts of inconsequential, unimportant cats. It was the opinions of her own Clan that she cared about, and even those not more than she had to. It didn't matter what the Clans thought of her as long as Heat knew what she was doing and could justify it.

"You can do nothing about what I will do," she added, amber eyes just ever so slightly narrowed. "The unimportant opinions of the Clans will not sway me, no matter how black and evil they think I am."

The white tom smiled, and once again that pitying expression shone on his face. Heat was halfway to snarling before she knew what she was doing.

"You think you're so different and special and _right_ about your 'grayness,' don't you?" the tom said, in that questioning tone that doesn't want or need an answer. "This gray you speak of…gray is just white gone dirty."

"Of course," Heat murmured in a partially sarcastic, partially disdainful tone, fixing the white tom with a stare. It was obvious that if Heat stayed any longer, she would be rendered too furious to keep on her veneer of calm and reason. However, she couldn't leave abruptly and let StarClan think they won; that would be completely unthinkable, although it might make them arrogant in their victory, becoming a little less careful…

"Well," Heat mewed before any StarClanner, particularly the white tom, could say something, "it seems none of you have anything new to say from any other cat"—she blithely continued, acting as if her easy lie was nothing other than pure truth—"so I think I will depart." She dipped her head out of fake respect to the StarClanners. "Best of luck in further trying to convince me to 'change my ways.'"

And then she woke up.

That, Heat decided, was certainly an interesting encounter with StarClan. If only that white tom hadn't been before…

As could be inferred, Heat was still thinking about the tom's words, and was, to her immense disgust, wondering how she could prove her grayness and how she was not evil to them (and that white was not "gray gone dirty" or whatever that tom had said—such a silly statement, really). At the same time, she berated herself for thinking it was important to prove to StarClan she wasn't evil; she had even said to them that their opinions about her morality didn't matter! Heat let out a small hiss (she was in the privacy of her own cave, after all) and halfheartedly pawed the ground, rolling her eyes at the same time. As if that would help relieve her anger.

It was that tom's last words that especially gnawed at her, repeating themselves over and over in her head. _Gray is just white gone dirty._

_Obviously,_ Heat thought, _they think that if I "clean" myself I will become white._ _That is, stop my supposedly wicked ways and habits._

The unspoken part of the tom's statement flashed in her mind for a second—_black is just white gone even dirtier, black is just a dirtier, darker gray—_but Heat ignored it, returning to the spoken part, the idea that dropping the tendencies and habits and plans that defined her and her rule over BloodClan would clean her and make her white.

_It's a stupid idea, _Heat thought, wrinkling her nose and sneering a bit. _An idea that would, at its essence, just turn me into a Clan cat in every way but name._

It was always the worst ideas that Heat couldn't forget.

Well, she could get…a bit nicer just to show StarClan she may be gray and good for _her _Clan (just not the others), but not black—

_No,_ Heat immediately thought, sinking claws she didn't remember unsheathing into the cool earth of her cave, destroying some of the moss in her bedding in the process. Normally, she would have reminded herself to tell Talon to order some cat to get her more moss, but more important thoughts were on her mind at the moment.

_Besides_, Heat thought, her gaze lingering on the ruined moss for one more moment, _if I did such a thing, every cat's opinion of me—even those of the unimportant Clan cats—would lower. Cats would think I was _weak.

Cats could not think Heat was weak if she always had to have total power over and respect of cats, so she could always lead. It was, Heat had decided long ago, one of the vital keystones of leadership, and that was the point of view on which she had based her style of leading.

_Why am I still thinking about this?_ It was almost shameful, really, how much Heat was caring about this. Nose wrinkling, she very emphatically changed the subject of her thoughts to that of the Honor Killings. Yawning a bit (that dream must not have lasted long; she really ought to get back to sleep), Heat blinked in that heavy, long-lasting way that suggested the blinker was very tired. She got back down and curled up.

_What about starting them earlier? _Heat thought, for once glad to end the thought without a firm no immediately following—it was a good idea, and it showed she was still the same as ever. Plus, less time for that cat Scorn to get used to the idea; you weren't supposed to become comfortable with your punishment, after all.

Heat opened her jaws in a yawn again, and thought, _So there, StarClan. You've done nothing to me, unless you think starting the Honor Killings earlier is some sort of cleaning. Nothing at all…_ before falling back to sleep.

* * *

Oddly, it was the sudden lack of noise, of the sudden perfectly sneaky silence that alerted Scorn to the fact that a guard had arrived at his cell. It was such an eerie quality Heat's guards had—being able to be absolutely silent in every way—that Scorn was beginning to tell whenever a guard was present just because of it. Without turning around, he said dully, "Yes? You've already given me food, and it's too soon for me to have food again."

The guard sidled up to him (this seemed to be the primary way the guards got around, and Scorn couldn't think of it as anything else but sidling. Before the guards, Scorn had never met cats whose way of getting around was sidling up to other cats. It was, in all honesty, quite odd) and hissed—like always—"It has been decided that you are now allowed to roam freely in the city, so long as you are accompanied by another cat, preferably a guard."

It has been decided? Scorn took it as he knew it really meant, and asked, "Why is Heat letting me do that? I mean, even though you guards are probably trained to be very good at fighting, couldn't I fight one of you, make you unconscious, and run away?" Scorn doubted he would ever do that, but it was possible.

The guard chuckled, although how you chuckle while managing to do it in a sort of hissing tone bewildered Scorn. "Heat knows you know it's no use trying to escape the Honor Killings."

Scorn was starting to wonder if Heat's "mind-reading" was really just interpreting expressions and movements.

"Of course," he muttered. "Well, I might as well go out." He looked at the guard, who looked back with piercing green eyes. "I assume Heat assumed I would decide to go out and sent you here only to tell me this so you would be unoccupied and able to escort me around the city?"

Actually, Scorn mused, it wasn't a stretch. Not with Heat in the equation.

"Possibly," the guard said in a short, curt tone that suggested either impatience or that Scorn was right but didn't want to show it. Scorn opted for the latter. Or maybe both.

"Well," said Scorn, "I think I'll go the nearest nursery." The guard stared at him (Scorn would have done the same, because even he didn't know why he said that. The words had just slipped out of his mouth); possibly she knew he didn't have a mate and had no reason at all for visiting any of the BloodClan nurseries.

However, it was probably the only place in the city that Scorn hadn't explored, due to not really being interested in queens and kits and the like—he might as well familiarize himself with the places, though, just in case he ever had a mate who had kits.

The guard stopped staring and hissed, "As you wish," in what Scorn suspected to be a mocking tone. She turned around and left the cell, Scorn following.

To tell the truth, Scorn was glad he had to have a guard with him at all times when walking around the city—he had no idea, except for the fuzziest, where any of the nurseries were, due to his disinterest in them.

As Scorn thought this, he realized…he was thinking this. That is, he was still conscious to think this. After all, the last time he had been taken to his cell, he had to be unconscious. Being taken from it would, you'd think, surely require the same action.

"Um," he said, winkling his nose, "why haven't you made my unconscious yet so I wouldn't know the way to the cells? I thought I wasn't supposed to be conscious during trips to and from them?"

The guard smirked. "Well, now that you've noticed, you can't be conscious."

Scorn supposed Heat thought he would either be too happy about being able to go somewhere outside the cell to notice the trip from it or note it would be a good idea to commit the trip to memory, and then his surroundings went black.

It was getting to be rather predictable, really.

* * *

Upon waking up, Scorn found himself laying down on a sidewalk (he had learned long ago that was what the hard strips of ground were called) in front of a strip of small Twoleg nests that he vaguely recognized. Scorn also found upon waking up that the sunlight was much brighter than he remembered it, obviously a side effect of being stuck in a dim cave for days. For a moment he thought of looking around to see if he could spot any small, secretive entrances that led to the cells, but knew the guard wouldn't have been stupid enough to just let him come to right near the entrance. It was far more probable that she had moved him somewhere else and waited for him to come to there.

The guard flicked her gray tail and hissed, "Get up. If you take any longer I'll take you back to the cell."

That was, Scorn decided, definitely the most words at a time he had ever heard a BloodClan guard say. He got up out of sheer surprise.

Without saying anything, the guard started walking down the sidewalk, Scorn following. After a few minutes, they turned the corner, walking down a sidewalk of Twoleg nests which Scorn recognized; this was a somewhat-popular hangout place for the BloodClan cats, because most of the Twoleg nests were occupied by Twolegs who didn't care much for stray cats or appeared to be unlived in. Naturally, a few BloodClanners were there. Having known of his punishment (like any other community, gossip and news spread quickly, so most cats who spent enough time out on the streets or cared enough about Clan news knew about Scorn), they all snickered when they saw him pass by with a guard as an escort. Scorn decided to ignore the cats instead of glaring at them and walked by, acting as if they weren't laughing at him.

The guard stopped at the end of this sidewalk, quickly looking both ways to see if there were any monsters approaching, and opening her jaws to smell if any monsters were coming. Judging by the way the guard walked across the Thunderpath in a sort of leisurely way, there were no monsters near. Scorn had noticed a long time ago that few monsters came where the city was pretty unpopulated. He followed her to the other side, where there was a large section of grass and dirt. Although most of this place was grassy, with a few trees here or there, there were also some odd places made of sidewalk-material where Twolegs would play with a ball, though the ways they played with the ball varied. There were also some places here where mostly the younger Twoleg kits went that had all sorts of odd, shiny, tall sculptures which the Twoleg kits played on.

Scorn was pretty sure it was called a park. "The nursery's here?" he asked, a sort of vague interest in his tone. "In the park?"

The guard nodded curtly, and headed toward one of the places in the park with the odd nests that the Twoleg kits played in; as always, Scorn followed. The park was pretty empty—Scorn had noticed that the parks he had seen scattered around the city tended to be emptier in the mornings than the afternoons, except for every so often for two days, when Twoleg kits were there in the morning, too.

As he walked with the guard to the odd nest, Scorn noticed a small hole—just big enough for a cat to fit through, though a particularly large cat would have hard time fitting through it—and wondered how he'd never seen it before. "Does that hole lead to the nursery?" Scorn asked, still with that tone of vague interest.

Once again, the guard gave a curt nod.

Now, of course, Scorn didn't need to be led by the guard, though the guard still needed to accompany him. Being lithe and small (but just the _slightest, tiniest_ bit, Scorn would always maintain), Scorn slipped in the hole easily, as did the guard—after all, it wouldn't do to have a heavyset, lumbering guard always drawing attention to him or herself.

Upon entering the nursery, Scorn saw it was bigger than he thought, probably spanning or almost spanning the entirety of the rectangular nest in which the Twoleg kits played. He could see plenty of queens nursing newborn kits, pregnant queens who looked like they could give birth at any moment, queens who were so early along they didn't look pregnant at all, queens with kits nearly old enough to become apprentices, and the like. Among them there were a few cats who were plainly not queens, due to some of those few being toms, and a few kits who didn't seem to be near any queens at all, which was pretty odd. Even those rambunctious kits who were barely kits anymore always seemed to stay near their mothers; Scorn remembered doing such a thing back all those moons ago when he was a kit…in ThunderClan.…

"Who are those kits all alone?" Scorn asked, referencing with his tail to the group of kits (although he couldn't see them all, the BloodClanner guessed there were about six of them or so). Even though he felt like he was talking to himself, Scorn knew the guard was probably standing right behind him. Even when alone, it was oddly difficult to distinguish the scent of a guard, and being in a nursery where there were so many different cats definitely made it no easier.

"Recruit kits," the guard hissed. "The ones found alone in and outside the city and the very few from the Clans."

_Wait, what?_ Scorn's ears pricked. "Recruit kits from the Clans? Really?"

The guard probably would have rolled her eyes, but it appeared, from all the guards Scorn had seen, that they were not permitted to do so. "Yes," she hissed. "Really."

Scorn glanced at the kits again. "Am I allowed to be alone in the nursery if you're still in it?"

Once again, Scorn got the sense the guard would have rolled her eyes. "Sure. I'll know if you try to escape."

Scorn snorted and thought, just like the guard was probably doing, too, _Like that'll ever happen._

"Whoa! You look just like me, except with darker fur!"

Scorn whipped around and found himself facing a—no. It wasn't possible.

He was looking at himself—not Scorn, Ferretkit—at four and a half moons old. Ferretkit, but with lighter brown fur.

Had his parents—why hadn't Oakbranch mentioned this, even if he was somewhat insane? While Scorn became, well, Scorn and a BloodClanner, Berrytail and Honeydrop had had another kit.

Scorn finally nodded. "Yes," he said, "I do. Now, isn't that strange?"

The kit nodded eagerly. "It _is._ It's like we're related, but if I was related to you I would have known."

Scorn nodded faintly. "Yeah. So, what's your name?"

"Minkki—I mean, _Mink,_" Mink mewed, looking down out of embarrassment. Clearly, he hadn't gotten used to his new, shortened name yet.

_Minkkit._ Or rather, Mink.

Scorn tried not to think about how minks and ferrets were basically the same type of animal.

"What a nice name," Scorn meowed.

"What's yours?" Mink mewed, looking up at him with innocent, wide amber eyes, amber eyes that were the same shade as Scorn's.

Scorn opened his mouth to respond, and then remembered the only reason he was here was because he was bored enough and wanted to get out of a cell. A cell he was in so he wouldn't try to escape doing the Honor Killings.

The last task of the Honor Killings was killing a kit…

He couldn't get too close. Heat would _know._

"I—I'm sorry," Scorn meowed, his voice raspy from dryness. "I have to go."

"You do?" Mink said, eyes widened. "Why?"

Scorn bit his lip. "I—just do. I'm sorry." He could feel the guard behind him, and decided it was best not to drag this out. He turned around and headed toward the hole and crawled out, the guard following.

"I'll go back to my cell," Scorn said, making his voice as smooth and normal as he possibly could. The guard nodded, and Scorn closed his eyes before it could really go black.

* * *

Much like on Earth, news spreads quickly in StarClan. However, like on Earth, some cats don't always hear about it as quickly as others. Such was the case with two young StarClanners (if StarClanners can really be said to have age), walking along in what seemed to be a wide stretch of fields with a small wood just ahead but, really, if one concentrated enough, felt more like starlight and sky and other odd things.

Most StarClanners tended not to concentrate on their surroundings. It usually led to awkwardness.

The first one stopped suddenly, ears pricked and whiskers twitching. He scented the air and bounded off for a moment while the other StarClanner sat down among the grass and waited for him, tabby tail twitching with a bit of impatience. After a few moments the first StarClanner came back, a plump rabbit dangling from his jaws. In StarClan, the prey was almost never lean or dry or distasteful.

He took a bite and pushed it forward, clearly offering it to his companion, who bit on the other side. They both bent over, eating the rabbit. The first, blue-gray StarClanner swallowed his second mouthful and paused, not bending down again to take a third. The tabby's gaze turned to the blue-gray StarClan cat, swallowing his bite of rabbit.

"Has there been any more progress in finding a prophecy for BloodClan?" the blue-gray-furred StarClan cat inquired—he was the kind of cat who always inquired, never asked—whiskers twitching and wide eyes gleaming with curiosity. He was that sort of wide-eyed, curious cat, a personality befitting of the weak type who had simply died young of sickness and had still not become quite accustomed to life—well, existence, but no one really paid attention to the technicalities—in StarClan yet.

The tabby blinked, tilting his head and then shaking it in that sort of worldly-wise, despairing way, which usually indicated the worldly-wise despairer was a cat who had not been in StarClan for an incredibly long time but had been there long enough to know the way around and the way that things were done. "What are you talking about?" he said, blinking again. "Haven't you _heard_?"

The blue-gray cat's eyes grew wider. "Heard about what?" he inquired (the tabby noticed that he nearly asked, but then his tone and expression were back to an inquiry).

The tabby rolled his yellow eyes in what appeared to be disbelief, but was more of that sort of faked disbelief that you needed for such moments. "About the situation with BloodClan, of course," he mewed. The tabby could tell his companion was about to inquire, "What situation?" but decided he didn't want to drag it out that long, so he added, "You know, that there _is _no prophecy. They've—you know, the higher-ups—have tried over and over again, but they haven't found any prophecies relating to the BloodClan situation _at all._"

The blue-gray cat's eyes grew so wide that the tabby was sure they were going to pop out at any second—it surely wasn't possible for a cat's eyes to go so wide. Several moments of silence passed, until the tabby wondered if the blue-gray tom was even going to respond. Finally, in a sort of nonplussed, innocent tone (the cat was still new to StarClan, after all, and didn't know much about prophecies and such), meowed, "Well, why don't we make one up, so it seems like it'll happen, and then it _will_ happen?"

It was obvious by the cat's tone and StarClan inexperience that what he had just said was a combination of having no idea what he was talking about and how prophecies worked, and a sort of half-hearted and not very funny joke.

Nevertheless—oh, StarClan—the tabby knew this cat had struck gold, and his eyes quickly grew as wide as the other tom's. "I—I gotta go—sorry," he muttered to the blue-gray StarClanner before racing off through the fields, off to tell the more important StarClanners about this tom's unaware, off-the-wall comment.

The blue-gray tom didn't even ask the reasons for his companion's leaving, despite the fact that it was hard to have a sudden reason to go when you're in StarClan. He was that trusting sort of cat. Instead, he walked off again, not thinking any more about his insignificant, forgettable remark.

After all, it was nothing important, right?

* * *

Relatively short chapter. I know you're happy. xD

I swear I had something to say, but I can't remember it at all…

Oh, well.

Constructivecriticismplz?


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